Idiosyncrasies of Death
by AndrianaWarrior7
Summary: Kol Mikaelson/SI-OC "Death favors us." Guidelines on how to deal with life, death, life after death and all the general stupidity that, undoubtedly, follows...In hindsight, she realized that she should've just stayed dead. But, let it be known; Zatanna Elvira Bennett-Asturias never does things half-arsed. Full Teen-Version summary inside.
1. Epigraph:

**Full Summary:**

Kol Mikaelson/SI-OC.

...

"Death is an entity all on its own." Her father once said. "And let it be known, _pequeňa bruja_ , that death favors us."

...

"Do what you think you should." Her mother smiled, looking proud. "You have something rare; the sheer ability to actually use your intelligence."

...

"Oh, you crafty, scheming bitch." Her brother looked at her with an appreciative grin. "I'm impressed."

...

"Common sense is all I need." She shrugged. "I'm fucking the timeline up. At least I'm making smart decisions as opposed to all the stupid ones I _know_ you can make."

...

"Oh, darling," A slow, wicked smile spread across his lips. "You are _simply_ magnificent."

...

Guidelines on how to deal with life, death, life _after_ death and all the general fuckery that, undoubtedly, follows...In hindsight, she realized that she should've just stayed dead.

But, let it be known; Zatanna Elvira Bennett-Asturias never does things half-arsed.

* * *

"To think about death, was to subject yourself to complete and utter mind-fuckery."

~ _Zatanna Bennett-Asturias.~_

* * *

 _"Mors nobis favet; Death favors us."_

 **-** ** _The Asturias Family Motto_** **-**

* * *

 **Disclaimer** : This is a work of fanfiction; I do not claim any ownership over any characters, situations or anything of relation from the TVD world. I do, however, own the Asturias Family, anything related to them, any other Original-Character introduced and the plot of this particular story.


	2. Prologue:

**Warnings:** Death.

 **Note:** The dialogues in Italic show that the speakers are either a form of flashbacks or communicating in a different language, in this case spanish.

* * *

 **Death: Definition:** ** _(Noun) The action or fact of dying or being killed; the end of the life of a person or organism._**

 ** _'There is no death, only a change of worlds.'_**

 ** _-_** **Chief Seattle-**

 ** _'~I'm bleeding out, said if the last thing that I do, is to bring you down, I'll bleed out for you, so I bear my skin, and I count my sins, and I close my eyes, and I take it in, and I'm bleeding out, I'll bleed out for you,~'_**

 **-Bleeding Out; Imagine Dragons.-**

* * *

 **Prologue:**

 ** _31st January, 2018; Herat, Afghanistan._**

She did not _fear_ death.

In her line of work, it would be foolish to do so.

Of course, that didn't mean she was avidly looking for ways to die _._

Because let's be honest, she prided herself in being _smart_ not _suicidal_.

Make no mistake though, death _would_ come. It was inevitable and no amounts of whining or moaning or hysterical crying would stop it.

She had never really cared for it; dying was simply a fact.

So, after stating above facts and statements, she was rather ashamed to admit, that when death _did_ come for her; she was hilariously unprepared.

Although, if she thought about it, no one was truly _ever_ prepared for death. It snuck up on you when you least expected it and was an absolute pain in the arse.

And as she lay on the hard ground of an abandoned alleyway, the rain cold and harsh; splattering over her prone form, the water intermixing with the crimson blood that leaked from the bullet hole in her chest, she mused on how, while as unprepared as she was for it, dying was not an unexpected notion.

Her eyes fluttered open and close as she fought to retain consciousness, it was a pointless attempt. She knew she wouldn't last the next ten minutes; she had lost too much blood.

Voices constantly filtered through the ear-piece she had commandeered for herself. Worried; they constantly called futile assurances and made desperate attempts to keep her wake.

They wouldn't make it in time, she registered the fact. Although, fondness for her team mates, her troops, her _friends_ , seemed to creep through her sluggish thoughts.

She blinked slowly up at the dark, dreary night sky. _A simple reconnaissance mission, my arse._

At least it was raining. The heady scent of petrichor filtered through her nose _one last time._

She loved the rain, fitting she would die surrounded by its cold embrace.

A harsh cough followed by-

-a final _shuddering_ breath.

And she ceased to move, laying still, unseeing and unbreathing.

 _At 02:27 am, on the 31st of January, 2018, dedicated career officer; Lieutenant Saoirse Aideen Carmody, one of the very few female soldiers of the British SAS, breathed her last._

* * *

 ** _31st October, 1992; Barcelona; A_** ** _utonomous Community of Catalonia,_** ** _Spain._**

It was raining.

The earthy scent of the rain filtered through the partly open windows of the hospital waiting rooms, he stood next to one such window, enjoying how the cold harsh winds hit his face, along with occasional, stray, sprays of rain droplets.

It invigorated him.

His son, a child who had recently turned two, was sleeping on one of the more comfortable chairs of the waiting room. He let out soft snores as his head leaned back against the arm of the chair; the rest of his body curled upon the seat.

The man was currently waiting for the nurse he _knew_ would arrive soon, bringing news of the birth of his second child.

 _A daughter._ His magic seemed to whisper, curling within him eagerly.

In response, his eyes glowed unnaturally in the darkness of the room, seeming hauntingly luminous.

His keen senses picked up the hurried footsteps moving towards the direction of the waiting room he waited, ever so patiently, in.

It was a sound accentuated easily by the silence of the hospital, it was quite early in the morning; 2:30 if he was correct, a careless glance thrown to the wall clock confirmed his assumptions, give or take a few minutes.

The door to the room opened, yet he did not turn from his position in front of the half open window.

 _"Seňor Asturias?"_ A slightly breathless voice inquired in their native language.

The man half-turned knowing exactly what she would inform him about.

The woman, dressed in deep purple hospital scrubs, floundered a bit when she met his eyes, before she cleared her throat and smiled at him. _"You're wife has given birth to a healthy daughter."_ She continued in lilting Spanish.

His head tilted to the side, a pleased expression making its way on his face.

 _"Gracias, may I see them?"_ He questioned politely, his attention shifting towards his son, who had begun to wake.

 _"Si, seňor. Both you and your son are welcome."_ She informed him.

The man nodded absentmindedly, reaching down to lift his half-asleep son in his arms. He then looked expectantly at the nurse who quickly turned to lead him to his wife and newly born daughter.

The hallways were bare and silent barring the nurses on night shifts and the supervising doctors. His long strides assisted him in easily keeping up with the hurrying nurse. She led him towards the delivery room where, he assumed, his wife would probably be kept under observation for the remainder of the night.

The door opened and he was met with a pair of nurses hustling around fiddling with machines he cared little for. His eyes immediately fixed themselves upon his wife; she looked tired, he registered dimly, it was to be expected of course. Birthing a child was a feat all on its own, his respect for women and their strength seemed only to increase as he observed his wife.

Her light brown skin was covered with a thin sheen of sweat, her hair; sleek black locks stuck to her perspiring forehead, and her eyes; tired hazel brown smiled at him.

She was wearing a hospital gown and glowed in a way only a newly made mother, in her case a mother to another child, could.

She held a bundle wrapped in a mauve colored blanket close to her chest, her eyes followed his movements as he walked closer to her.

 _"Ignacio, esposo mío."_ She greeted him, tired yet playful.

 _"Pauline, esposa mía."_ He responded in return, letting their son -now fully awake- out of his arms and onto the bed, where the young boy lay next to his mother and peered at the bundle in her arms with curious eyes.

 _"Mama?"_ The young boy questioned.

 _"Your sister, Atticus."_

His wife looked up at him and lifted her arms, her intention of handing him their new-born daughter clear.

The man, with practiced ease, easily lifted _his daughter_ out of his wife's arms and examined the new-born babe.

He noticed instantly that she, like her older brother, seemed to take after him in aspect to her physical appearance.

Her skin, while red at the moment, was easily distinguished as olive, an instant nod to her European Spanish heritage gained from his own side of the family. Her hair, from what he could see, were tufts of smooth, dark honey brown, something once more she inherited from him rather than her mother. Her eyes fluttered open and he was met with exactly what he was expecting.

The Asturias eyes; an odd blend of the dark shades of teal and sea green. A feature passed down to all members of the Asturias family, for generations upon generations; there were no exceptions.

Both his children had the Asturias eyes, just as he did.

What drew his attention away from his daughter's features -he knew she would resemble himself greatly as she grew older- was the _sheer, powerful_ magic that pulsed within her entire form, like a coiled snake just _waiting_ to attack.

His eyes met his wife's who looked just as stunned and proud as he did.

And finally, his lips curled upwards into a smile as he stared into his daughter's _clear_ eyes.

 _At 02:27 am, on the 31st of October, 1992, the youngest child and only daughter of Ignacio Àlvaro Asturias; Seňorio de Lazcano and Pauline Rosalie Bennett, younger sister to Atticus Tomás Bennett-Asturias; Zatanna Elvira Bennett-Asturias, a reborn soul with powerful magic, breathed her first._

* * *

 **Additional Information:** All information regarding British SAS was taken from the internet, for further information, you are welcome to ask.

Regarding the noble title given to Ignacio Asturias; the title itself is real i.e 'Seňor of Lazcano/Seňorio de Lazcano; Lord of Lazcano' is a real title but it's usage in this story is entirely fictional. As far as I'm aware, in real life this title belongs to the Ducal House of el Infantado.

 **Edit:** Credits to the guest reviewer for clarifying who the title of Lazcano belongs to in real life.

* * *

 **A/N:** _I love Kol and the Originals. I also absolutely hate the stupid decisions made by basically everyone in the show. Hence, it resulted into the birth of this fanfiction. I also adore the idea of Self-Insert OC's as you might have guessed._

 _Anyways hope you enjoyed; because the entire timeline of the show is going to be in tatters, all because of the presence of a single character who actually uses her brain and has the rare ability to use her common sense. An unknown variable who will fuck everything up._

 _*Evil Smile* Oh, all the shit I have planned._

 _Like/favorite and review/comment, please._

* * *

 **Translations:**

 ** _Seňor Asturias:_** _Lord Asturias._

 _ **Gracias:**_ _Thank you._

 _ **Si, seňor:**_ _Yes, sir._

 _ **Esposo mío:**_ _My husband._

 _ **Esposa mía:**_ _My wife._

 **Note:** All translations were taken with the help of Google. If there are any mistakes, I would like to apologize as I do not know how to speak the language.

 **Edit:** Corrections to translations made with the kind and welcomed help of **Alessandra12,** I am extremely and genuinely grateful for her help.

* * *

 _"Mors nobis favet; Death favors us."_

 _ **-The Asturias Family Motto-**_

* * *

 **Disclaimer** : This is a work of fanfiction; I do not claim any ownership over any characters, situations or anything of relation from the TVD world. I do, however, own the Asturias Family, anything related to them, any other Original-Character introduced and the plot of this particular story.


	3. Chapter I:

**Warnings:** Language, PTSD, Morbid jokes and Dark humor that might offend others e.g. jokes on contemplation of suicide, these are just used to describe the rather morbid sense of humor the character/s may have and are in no means used to offend anyone or make light of the serious topics that may be mentioned. For any sensitive topic used in a joke, I apologize in advance and hope you keep in mind I meant no offense.

 **Note:** The dialogues in Italic show that the speakers are either a form of flashbacks or communicating in a different language, in this case spanish.

* * *

 **Reincarnation: Definition:** ** _(Noun) The rebirth of a soul in another body._**

 ** _'I used to believe in reincarnation, but that was long ago, in another life.'_**

 ** _-_** **Dave Schinbeckler-**

 _ **'~Just because everything's changing, Doesn't mean it's never been this way before, All you can do is try to know who your friends are, As you head off to the war.~'**_

 **-The Call; Regina Spektor-**

* * *

 **Chapter I:**

 ** _5th February, 1996; Asturias Household, Mystic Falls; Virginia, United States of America._**

Zatanna would admit; waking up, after _clearly_ dying, cradled in the arms of a handsome man was mind-stumping. Coupled with the fact that she was _tiny_ and easily fit in aforementioned man's arms as if she weighed nothing was rather panic inducing.

Which, to her _utter horror,_ led to her _bawling_ her eyes out.

Now that- _that_ was a dark memory she would forever lock away in the far recesses of her mind.

Along with the shit load of other aspects -problems, _really-_ accompanied with the discovery that she was a baby. _Again._

Before any judgmental statements were made, she would like to point out that even though she was normally very easy-going and laid-back, coming back to life- being reborn, gave merit to a good _long_ panic attack, it was an event that was traumatic on a whole other level.

She digressed though;

After waking up in the arms of her _new and awesome as hell_ father, Zatanna was forced to re-evaluate her misconceptions on life _and_ death _and apparently,_ life _after_ death _._

And of course let's not forget the general fuckery that followed- would follow? She wasn't even sure anymore.

Anyways, let's have a rundown of all the facts she had gathered in the past 3 years, 2 months and 6 days about her life following her _(re)_ birth.

Fact number one: Incase it remained uncomprehending, because _she_ _still_ had a hard time believing it; she was a baby, or toddler now, _again._

Fact number two: Her new family was _fucking awesome._ And she would shamelessly admit; she was a daddy's girl, through and through. In her defense though, have you _met_ her father?

Fact number three: She had _magic._ Now _that_ would take _some_ getting used to. It was a discovery she never noticed before, she blamed the short attention span and horrible memory retention that she seemed to gain after being turned(?) into a baby again.

As it was, on her second birthday, she noticed how she unconsciously caused random pieces of decor to levitate around her whenever she got excited and giggled. Her parents watched her with proud eyes -she would never admit it, but her first reaction to finding out she _apparently_ had magic, was to preen under her father's praising gaze- after which, Zatanna listened to her older brother gush about how she _always_ did such pretty tricks and _wow_ , she had used magic before? Why on earth couldn't she remember? She had cursed being a baby then. She _really_ wanted to know; what else had she done with her... _magic?_

Fact number four and the _most_ important and _mind-fucking_ fact; She was in the world of 'The Vampire Diaries'.

Zatanna had never contemplated killing herself before, but she had to admit committing suicide had its appeal now.

How she discovered this fact? Quite simple.

Zatanna was _smart_. She was _certainly_ smart enough to figure out what was in front of her, her parents often mentioned that Atticus and she were witches, warlock in her brothers case, and powerful ones at that.

 _"An Asturias and a Bennett, hijos míos."_ She recalled her father telling them.

Seeing as her mother's last name was 'Bennett' and the woman had _insisted_ that both her children have her own last name as well as their father's (not that it mattered to him, seeing as in Spanish naming customs, a person usually always had two surnames; although, the mother's surname typically came after the fathers) should have been enough to raise warning bells.

But Zatanna, blissfully ignored what was _right_ in front of her. It was only after hearing an enlightening conversation between her parents that she _finally_ figured it out.

It was a casual discussion of her mother's family. Incidentally, it was the conversation her mother had with her father before the two made the decision to move to Mystic Falls, Virginia, USA all the way from _beautiful_ Barcelona, Spain.

Zatanna had recently turned three and her father had started teaching her about her magic, his first (and only) lesson was enlightening, as she recalled.

 _"The first thing you should now, pequeňa bruja, is that you are an Asturias. And an Asturias witch is much different than any other Wiccan."_ He had informed her in rich Spanish, his eyes -Asturias eyes, he mentioned- twinkling in the setting sun's dying light.

He had lifted his daughter in his arms earlier that evening, taking her for a long walk through their _estate_ gardens in Barcelona.

She had learned early on, that her family was well-off and by that she _very politely_ meant, _filthy fucking rich._

Apparently, they were an old noble family who held the 'Lordship of Lazcano' and her father was current Lord of the family; which as it is, entailed ownership of multiple family inherited estates and properties across Spain, and some located in other countries. When she pondered on it, it was _overwhelming._ Her father was a successful businessman as well; The owner of a Multi-Billionaire Real-Estate company which owns, manages and develops properties all across Spain, the largest private-owned real estate company in Spain, she'd discovered.

However, overwhelming as it was, she would be lying if she said that her family's wealth didn't appeal to her materialistic side. Because it did. Very much so. You know, just if she was being unclear; she wasn't even going to pretend otherwise.

Her father had looked down into her own curious eyes and with half a smile, he tugged his daughter down the the cobblestone path and stopped when they reached the arch of trees that led to a pond deep within the property lines.

 _"The biggest difference, seňorita, between us and the Wiccan is that we do not harness magic that is already present around us."_ He spoke, looking quite content.

 _"Papa?"_ She had uttered, looking and feeling confused as hell.

His lips curved into a soft smile. _"Other Wiccan, and this includes your mother, harness magic that is already present around us, magic provided by Mother Nature. The Wiccan have the ability to manipulate that magic through incantations and rituals."_

Zatanna had known this much at least, but it was an interesting topic and she _needed_ to know more. To satisfy her inner-knowledge seeker.

Her father's eyes then gleamed with mischief. _"But unlike the Wiccan, the Asturias are_ _ **not**_ _bound to Mother Nature."_

In response, she had looked quite stunned.

 _"Instead of the ability to manipulate the magic around us, Asturias witches and warlocks are_ _ **born**_ _with magic. It is infused with our very souls. It can never be stolen or lost."_

 _"Why?"_ She had blurted, not looking confused at the long words he used, as opposed to how any other three year old might have been.

And her father looked downright devilish as he responded. _"Mors nobis favet, pequeňa bruja. Because, Death favors us."_

That chilled her to the bone; not out of fear but -oddly enough- out of awe.

 _"Come, pequeňa seňorita. That is enough for today, we shall continue later."_ Her father told her, looking pleased at her avid interest and excitement in regards to their magic.

That particular event took place two and a half months ago. Her father had not given her any other lessons since then and Zatanna would freely admit that she was disappointed. She wanted to learn about her magic _and_ spend time with her father.

Although, she had deviated from what she initially wanted to discuss; her discovery of this being the world of 'The Vampire Diaries.'

As mentioned above, she finally saw what was tauntingly dancing right before her eyes when she overheard a conversation between her parents. A conversation that took place two months ago i.e two weeks after her first magic lesson.

She wasn't particularly eavesdropping; in reality, she was playing hide and seek with her older five-year old brother.

Her hiding place? The washroom.

The door of said room was propped open to make it easier for her brother to find her or Lord knows; Atticus would bitch on and on about how she was cheating. He'd be correct of course, but she was three and daddy's little princess and would shamelessly admit to taking advantage of the situation.

Although, she suspected, by the amusement she found in her father's eyes every time she gave him an innocent doe-eyed expression, that he knew _exactly_ what she was doing. But hey, he didn't say anything so she'd simply act ignorant.

Now, she was hiding behind the open bathroom door and everything was _utterly silent_ save the soft murmurs she could hear from her parents bedroom across the hall, she guessed one of them opened the room door as their voices filtered clearly through the hallway.

 _"Ignacio, they are my family. Abby is a powerful witch in her own right but she was desperate when she called last night."_ Zatanna's mother seemed to implore in her soft, caressing voice.

Zatanna knew she was daddy's little girl, but that didn't mean she didn't love her mother; on the contrary. Zatanna _adored_ her family; it might have something to do with the fact that in her _past life -_ so weird saying that- her parents had died when she was young, before she could ever truly remember them.

And in this life, she had a living, breathing, _loving_ albeit _weird_ family. Her parents loved both their children equally, she was just closer to her father and Atticus to their mother.

 _"I don't like your cousin."_ Her father replied flatly.

Zatanna could _hear_ her mother roll her eyes.

 _"I realize that, but this isn't about Abby. This is about everyone else in my family. Aunt Sheila, Abby's daughter; Bonnie. I have to help, I owe them at least that much."_ Her mother tried to convince her father.

 _"You don't_ _ **have**_ _to do anything. If, from what you told me about Abby's-"_ And here, her father seemed to sound annoyed in his lazy drawl. _"-rambles, then this is not a threat to your family but to you're precious Abby's friend and her doppelgänger daughter."_

 _"Don't you think I realized that? But if this threat is as serious as Abby made it out to be, there's a possibility that it might target my family."_

 _"Your family is_ _ **us.**_ _"_ Her father sounded sharp.

A pause.

 _"I know."_ Her mother sighed softly. _"You're always my first priority; you, Atticus and Zatanna. But they're my family too."_

 _"I apologize, I just do not want to go to-"_ Her father cut himself off abruptly.

Another pause, a rather long one.

 _"What did you see?"_ Her mother spoke in a hushed voice.

Zatanna's father seemed to gather his thoughts before saying in a stiff voice, that easily portrayed his displeasure, _"I stand corrected, it seems Mystic Falls will play a large role in our children's fate. Simply visiting won't be enough-"_

But Zatanna had stopped listening after that.

 _Abby, Aunt Sheila, Bonnie,_ _D_ _oppelgänger_ _,_ _ **Mystic Falls.**_

 _Fuck my life._

Zatanna had shakily stood up, shut the washroom door and locked it, curled into a ball and proceeded to hyperventilate.

It was laughingly obvious; her mother's last name was Bennett _and_ the woman was a witch.

Pauline _fucking_ **Bennett** _ **.**_

Oh, god. She was reborn in a world where everything was angst-ridden drama and _just_ plain shit. She didn't even _know_ if there was a Pauline Bennett in the show. But her mother had called _Sheila Bennett_ her aunt and _Abby Bennett_ her cousin.

Her mother was never seen in the show, she might have been mentioned but Zatanna couldn't recall correctly, that only meant one thing; she had died.

That thought brought with it an onslaught of panicked tears, and what was worse was that it seemed they were heading to one of the supernatural hotspots of USA (because New Orleans would be the second) where all the horrific dramatic shit happened.

Karma was a _bitch._

Of course her panic attack lasted for about twenty minutes, she would not be blamed for it though. Zatanna _knew_ she was suffering from PTSD, dying then coming back to life in a fictitious world would do that to you, not to mention she was a _soldier_ who had first hand experience in warfare. Zatanna tended not to think of her rebirth, preferring to distract herself in her family and magic.

It would not help her in the long-run, not at all, as proven by Zatanna beginning to have nightmares about her death, she supposed it was because her body was growing, her physical mind maturing enough to be affected by her trauma.

And she knew she needed to talk to somebody, _tell_ somebody about her reincarnation. At least, in her past life, there were military psychologists whose very jobs were to deal with soldiers suffering from PTSD, to counsel them in therapy sessions.

Perhaps, she could talk to her father? It seemed like a good idea, the man was extremely knowledgeable and talking to him always soothed her.

Zatanna supposed, if she was to talk to him, it had better be soon.

The family of four had moved to Mystic Falls (of all the damn places) within a month; her father already had a house built there (after his marriage to their mother, she discovered) it had only needed to be furnished, a matter quickly solved by her parents.

Now, when she said _house_ , she was being polite and humble. It was more of a mansion that exuded brilliant elegance and modern class. Nothing less of what she'd expect from her parents.

The three year old was pulled out of her _intense_ musings when she heard her father knock on her bedroom door.

"And what are we thinking so hard about, _pequeňa seňorita?_ " He sounded amused as he leaned against the door frame, speaking in accented but impeccable English.

She smiled, a little weakly in response. "Nothing, papa. Are we leaving?"

He stared at her, observing through dark, teal-sea green eyes before nodding slowly.

"Your _madre_ is waiting in the car, along with your _hermano_." He reached down to lift her in his arms.

Zatanna took this moment to inspect her father; he was a handsome man who looked every bit a Spaniard as he was, with olive skin and short, dark honey brown hair that were always styled fashionably. A tall and lean build and dressed in elegant, sophisticated clothing, her father didn't look a day older than twenty seven.

The family was invited to attend the birthday dinner of sorts held in the Bennett household to celebrate Bonnie Bennett's third birthday.

Zatanna didn't know how to feel.

It wasn't a very long drive, even though their house was in a secluded neighbourhood, in the outskirts of Mystic Falls. It was spent with Atticus and Zatanna chattering with each other and before they knew it, they were parked outside the exact replica of Sheila Bennett's house as portrayed in the show.

It was unnerving.

"Remember, be nice." Their mother gave them last minute instructions. "Bonnie is your cousin, that means she's family."

" _S_ _í_ _,_ Mama." The two children chimed together.

Zatanna immediately took her father's hand as he walked confidently towards the front door of the house, his gait and entire demeanour radiated _power._

The door opened as soon as the bell rang, Zatanna's grip on her father's hand tightened and she forced down the _incessant_ need to whimper.

Sheila Bennett stood before them, looking exactly as she did in the show albeit younger. Her eyes met her father's before lowering in a show of respect.

"Ignacio." She greeted warmly.

" _Seňora Bennett,_ " Her father replied charmingly. "A pleasure."

Sheila was pulled into a hug before she could respond to his statement and the old woman laughed at her niece.

"Its good to see you too, Pauline."

"Oh, shut up, Aunt Sheila."

The two smiled warmly at each other before her mother gestured for her and Atticus to step forward.

"My children, Aunt Sheila. Atticus and Zatanna."

" _Hola,_ Grand-Aunt Sheila." Atticus smiled politely at the older woman.

"It's a pleasure to meet you." Zatanna spoke just as politely as she stepped next to her brother.

"Oh, none of that Grand-Aunt nonsense," Sheila rolled her eyes. "Just call me Grams. Now don't just stand there, come inside."

"We _were_ waiting for your invitation," Her father responded cheekily, easily side-stepping the swipe Sheila aimed at him.

They entered the house and Zatanna instantly saw familiar faces; faces belonging to people she had never personally met but knew all about. Bill and Liz Forbes stood in a corner talking with Mayor Richard Lockwood. She spied Grayson and Miranda Gilbert socializing with Carol Lockwood and Rudy Hopkins; the man looked like he'd rather be anywhere other than his mother-in-law's house. She even saw Mason Lockwood and Jenna Sommers, although those two looked amusingly young; no older than sixteen.

Most of the people in this room had horrific fates, depressing lives (and deaths) ahead of them.

Zatanna wasn't sure what to do with that knowledge.

She and her brother were ushered to the backyard where presumably all the children were playing in.

"Zatanna, Atticus. I'd like you to meet Bonnie." Sheila beckoned a waddling child towards them.

And Zatanna decided; Bonnie Bennett was the most adorable toddler _ever._

She stood in front of them, shuffling nervously as her hazel green eyes peered at them shyly. Her chocolate brown hair were pulled into twin pigtails, draped over each shoulder in loose curls and she wore this cute forest green frock; she was a picture of sugar and rainbows and all things nice.

"Hi, I'm Bonnie." She smiled, speaking slowly and carefully as to pronounce her words correctly.

Bonnie was the epitome of _innocence._

Zatanna's magic hummed within her, she could _feel_ it rise to the surface. Probably in response to the fierce protectiveness she felt for the three year old in front of her, she would later wonder about her immediate attachment to the toddler but all that seemed to go through her mind at that moment was: _mine, protect her, make her happy-_

Bonnie had been dealt the short hand repeatedly in her future. Her life was _fucked up._

And Zatanna would _not_ let that happen. This world she was stuck in, was a world made of stupid and reckless morons who could only make pathetic decisions.

Seeing, as she was present in this world, in that particular town, Zatanna would be damned before she went through all that drama.

 _Fuck no._

It was a split second decision, but one she didn't think she'd regret too much. She was going to fuck up the timeline.

"I'm Zatanna." She reached out to hold Bonnie's hand, whose smile grew wider and brighter.

She would fuck up everything. For her own sake, for her family's and for innocents like Bonnie.

Because her family and now _Bonnie_ was _hers._

And Zatanna had always been selfish and possessive regarding what was hers.

* * *

 **Additional Information:** Regarding the noble title given to Ignacio Asturias; the title itself is real i.e 'Seňor of Lazcano/Seňor de Lazcano; Lord of Lazcano' is a real title but it's usage in this story is entirely fictional. As far as I'm aware, in real life this title belongs to the Ducal House of el Infantado.

 **Edit:** Credits to the guest reviewer for clarifying who the title of Lazcano belongs to in real life.

Pauline Bennett, according to Wikia, is an actual canon character who was the niece of Sheila Bennett, the daughter of Sheila's un-named sibling and was listed as deceased.

* * *

 **A/N:** I love Bonnie.

Like/Favorite and Review/Comment, please.

* * *

 **Translations:**

 ** _Hijos míos:_** _My children._

 _ **Pequeňa bruja:**_ _Little witch._

 ** _Seňorita:_** _Miss._

 _ **Pequeňa Seňorita:**_ _Little Miss._

 _ **Madre:**_ _Mother._

 _ **Hermano:**_ _Brother._

 _ **Sí:**_ _Yes._

 _ **Seňora:**_ _Madam._

 _ **Hola:**_ _Hello._

 **Note:** All translations were taken with the help of Google. If there are any mistakes, I would like to apologize as I do not know how to speak the language.

 **Edit:** Corrections to translations made with the kind and welcomed help of **Alessandra12,** I am extremely and genuinely grateful for her help.

* * *

 _"Mors nobis favet; Death favors us."_

 _ **-The Asturias Family Motto-**_

* * *

 **Disclaimer** : This is a work of fanfiction; I do not claim any ownership over any characters, situations or anything of relation from the TVD world. I do, however, own the Asturias Family, anything related to them, any other Original-Character introduced and the plot of this particular story.


	4. Chapter II:

**Warnings:** Language, PTSD, Morbid jokes and Dark humor that might offend others e.g. jokes on contemplation of suicide, these are just used to describe the rather morbid sense of humor the character/s may have and are in no means used to offend anyone or make light of the serious topics that may be mentioned. For any sensitive topic used in a joke, I apologize in advance and hope you keep in mind I meant no offense.

 **Note:** The dialogues in Italic show that the speakers are either a form of flashbacks or communicating in a different language, in this case spanish.

The link to the picture that potrays the Asturias Household in Mystic Falls, Virginia, USA: images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQbX9FJJpGUtg1QVS2c8yjNsFo3P_ogJQp-Jp1rYzPF_hVBiaP2qTTmHUDe.

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 **Bond: Definition:** ** _(Noun) a force and feeling that unites people; a shared emotion or interest._**

 _ **'There are no stronger bond on earth than the ones connecting loving families.'**_

 **-Jess Catcher-**

 ** _'~We are like birds of a feather, We are two hearts thrown together, We will be forever as one, My brother under the sun.~'_**

 **-Brothers Under The Sun; Bryan Adams-**

* * *

 **Chapter II:**

 ** _7th March, 1996; Asturias Household, Mystic Falls; Virginia, United States of America._**

His daughter had formed a magical bond with Bonnie Bennett.

Ignacio was giddy in pride.

To form a magical bond at _such_ a young age? Well, it seemed to be a further testament to his daughter's _immense_ and _potent_ magic. He recognized the bond to be a familial one; based on feelings of protectiveness and a sense of guardianship.

He watched with warm eyes, as his daughter sat with Bonnie on the soft green grass of their front yard. They had an open notebook placed in front of them and Zatanna was patiently trying to teach Bonnie to write her own name.

"No, _Seňorita Bonita_. It's B-O-N-N-I-E, not B-O-N-N-Y." He heard his little girl explained softly, while pointing out her cousin's mistake.

Bonnie, on the other hand, scrunched up her nose and stared at Zatanna through wide, inquisitive eyes.

"Why?" She asked.

Instead of blinking confused or floundering for an answer -because how did you explain why the name 'Bonnie' did not end with a 'y', seriously _how_ \- his daughter smiled indulgently, looking utterly unaffected by the question.

"Why is the sky blue and why is the grass green, Bonita?" Zatanna softly asked, while using the affectionate endearment she had dubbed Bonnie with.

Bonnie must have felt bewildered as she responded with a lost expression, "I don't know. Just, because."

Ignacio watched his daughter grin -to be fair, he was doing the same- her eyes lighting up with tender warmth.

"Because it's the way things are. Your name is spelt like that because that's how it's always been done." Zatanna responded, picking up the pencil and handing it to Bonnie.

"I don't like it." Bonnie crossed her arms and jut her lower lip out in a petulant pout.

Zatanna stared at Bonnie, amusement playing over her face. "You can't like everything," a touch of sarcasm coated his daughter's words. "Now go on, _Seňorita Bonita,_ write your name."

The two went silent after that, as Bonnie attempted to write her name and Zatanna watched on, with a small solicitous smile.

Watching his daughter and how she tended to Bonnie, Ignacio couldn't help but ponder on how his daughter acted much older than she actually was; her speech was impeccable, having a vast vocabulary that was not usually found in a three-year old child, possessing intelligent wisdom and let's not forget her thirst of knowledge.

He didn't quite know what to make of his daughter's maturity, he was pleased of course, but he knew there was something _more_.

Ignacio had always made it clear; his family was his _entire world._ Nothing mattered more than them. _Nothing._ And he loved them more than words could describe. They were _his._

His Pauline, his Atticus and his Zatanna.

In response to his sudden protective sentiments, his magic swirled around him, causing the air to subtly hum with energy; as if on instinct, Zatanna's head snapped in his direction, looking at him, just staring with wide eyes full of wonder.

Ignacio tilted his head to the side, a half-smile finding its way on his face. Perhaps, he needed to resume his lessons with his daughter, after all one could only fully utilize an ability after being taught how to use it.

And Ignacio wondered; his daughter had already showed a prodigious inclination towards her magic, performing little tricks with ease, he wondered how strong she would be with the proper knowledge and training.

He noticed both three-year old girls staring at him, Zatanna's eyes were focused on him in an intense way that made her eyes seem more teal-green than sea-green at that one moment, eyes that were dark but completely focused. Bonnie was staring more curiously, looking at the general air around him, no doubt feeling the power resonating in his aura.

He looked up at the darkening sky and decided to go back inside, it was a spring evening but there was a chilly breeze blowing. It didn't affect him much but he preferred to take the two girls indoors.

Better safe than sorry, of course (also if the girls fell sick, he wouldn't hear the end of it from his wife and Sheila and - _god forbid_ \- Abby and he liked keeping his pride intact, thank you very much).

Standing up from his relaxed seated position upon the wicker garden chair, Ignacio took long strides towards the two cousins, and with a mischievous smile he abruptly picked both girls up, jostling them playfully.

Both shrieked in laughter, holding on to him with tight grips and squealed harder when he made a show of dropping them back on the ground.

"No, don't!" Bonnie giggled loudly.

Zatanna beamed while trying to catch her breath -Because, of course, giggling was a draining exercise, and yes he was being sarcastic- before she latched her arms around his neck and rested her head against his right shoulder and Bonnie did the same with his left shoulder and they clung to him like koala's would to trees (and wasn't that an apt description).

He walked through the tall glass doors of the house and led the two children up to Zatanna's bedroom, Bonnie was staying the night on Zatanna's insistence (as she had done countless times before in this past month only because Zatanna had taken full advantage of her ability to make sad, innocent wide-eyed expressions; that cheeky, manipulative brat).

He helped them change into their pyjamas and Bonnie, who had spent the entire day playing with Zatanna, fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. He smiled at her sleeping form, running a comforting hand through her hair before tucking her in and turning towards his daughter.

Zatanna stood by the foot of the bed and looked -for some reason- wary of sleeping. Ignacio was not a blind man, on the contrary, he was very perceptive.

Now, being the astute and perceptive man he was, Ignacio had noticed that his daughter had recently started having trouble at sleeping. She looked tired and wary and it was at these moments he noticed how _old_ her eyes looked.

As if they had seen too much and experienced much more.

His magic swept out of him, curling around his daughter's form, cocooning her in its warm embrace. And immediately, Zatanna relaxed at the feeling, looking up at him with _soulful_ eyes.

"Can I stay awake with you, just for a little while, Papa?" She asked hesitantly.

He reached down to grasp her hand within hers. "You never need to ask, _querida._ "

He led his daughter to his study, and with a single wave of his hand, lit the fireplace with a warm, bright flame.

His daughter took a seat on the large and comfortable -if he did say so himself- couch opposite the fireplace and snuggled against his side when he sat next to her.

He stayed silent and ran his fingers through her dark lazy waves, his magic alerted him to his son's approaching presence and Ignacio smiled tilting his head backwards, just in time to see Atticus peek inside the room.

The young boys eyes lit up when he caught sight of them and approached with a cheerful gait.

While decidedly buoyant, he looked tired but then again he would, Pauline had taken Atticus out for the day to help him practice elemental spells; something she had decided to teach him herself.

"Where's your _madre?_ " Ignacio questioned as he put an arm around his son, who had taken to snuggling against his other side.

"Mama told me Aunt Abby needed to have an important talk with her, she left just a few minutes ago." His son answered promptly, reaching an arm across Ignacio's form so he could take a hold of his sister's hand.

Zatanna squeezed the offered appendage and grinned tiredly at him. "What did you learn today?" A familiar curious spark filled her eyes as she turned to get a better look at Atticus.

Ignacio smiled to himself, momentarily forgetting his intense dislike of Abby Bennett (because let's face it, he had always found her shallow, close minded and utterly judgmental) and concentrated on his children.

Atticus visibly lit up. "I can control fire, Mama was _so_ surprised!" He exclaimed excitedly, turning eager eyes towards Ignacio.

His son could control the most volatile of the elements? Heh. His children and their magic seemed to know no bounds; that was to to expected, of course, they held the heritage of the two _most_ powerful bloodlines; the Bennett family who were regarded as Wiccan royalty and then the Asturias family, who were essentially the royalty of the _entire_ magical community.

And _yes,_ he was absolutely and shamelessly bragging.

"Show us." Ignacio encouraged his son with a smirk.

Atticus sat up and grinned mischievously at them.

"Okay, okay. _Mirad esto_ _._ " The young boy turned towards the hearth and stared intently into the flames; his eyes glowed luminously as his entire demeanour shifted to concentrating at the task in hand, it was almost as if he was dazed.

Ignacio felt his son's magic pouring out his form; controlled magic, he noticed instantly. The soft tendrils of his magical aura advanced towards the flames molding them, gently and ever so softly.

Zatanna watched on in fascination, her eyes completely focused on her brother and the flickering fire before them.

In response to his magical manipulations, the flame slowly but surely changed it's form, curving and shaping till it resembled-

" _Aslan!"_ Zatanna sounded positively gleeful.

Atticus turned his attention towards his sister, a similar beam on his face and Ignacio was impressed to note that even after breaking his concentration, the fire still maintained its shape of a prowling lion, it further showed his son's impeccable control over the most unpredictable of the elements. "Narnia's the best."

Zatanna nodded her head rapidly. "That was awesome!" She turned her head away from Atticus and towards her father. "When can I start learning magic?"

His daughter sounded completely and utterly sulky.

She was _pouting,_ for fucks sake.

He had this sudden urge to laugh hysterically.

"When do you want to start?" He asked in return, turning his attention back towards the fire-lion, it was now lounging carelessly, it's ear twitching as it stared at them solemnly.

She blinked at him looking surprised, but after exchanging a glance with Atticus started smiling eagerly. "Right now, please."

"Its a theoretical session, again." He warned. "Now tell me, _pequeňa bruja,_ what do you remember from your last lesson?"

"You said we were not bound to Nature and that instead of manipulating the magic around us-magic provided by Mother Nature, we had our own magic." She replied deftly and promptly.

His lips twitched but he suppressed a smile. "Well done. But do you remember what I said after?"

She stared through large, contemplative eyes. Eyes that seemed much too calculating. " _Mors nobis favet_ ; Death favors us."

Atticus shifted and looked at Zatanna, his eldest child had a smirk that would give anyone chills; such a smirk was not meant to be seen on the face of a five-year old.

It was positively maniacal and devilishly chilling.

Ignacio was _proud._

It was such moments that Pauline snorted at and further commented on how he resembled an odd mutated version of a Preening Peacock and a Mama Bear.

It was probably true, but he would continue acting offended on said assumption.

"Its our family motto." Atticus informed Zatanna, his smirk only growing wider and broader.

"What does it mean?" His daughter asked, confusion rolling through her aura.

"When I said we are not bound to Mother Nature, I meant that literally." Ignacio rolled his eyes. "Servants of Nature are judgmental little things."

Zatanna snorted.

His _three-year old_ daughter just _snorted_ sarcastically.

He raised them well.

He flashed his daughter an amused smile before continuing. "Nature believes in _balance._ " he hissed out the last word.

"And we don't?" Zatanna looked utterly engrossed in the conversation.

"Not at all, _pequeňa seňorita,_ and that is because we are bound to Death."

Silence.

Zatanna stared at him and Atticus with wide eyes, her mouth fell open forming an 'o'.

Atticus jumped into the conversation then; his eyes sparkling with glee. "That means we answer to Death _not_ Mother Nature. And Death has always given us a free rein."

Ignacio nodded at his son, pleased that Atticus remembered his lessons. "We have no restrictions placed over us. Death does not believe in balance. As Asturias, we can practice all forms of magic."

Ignacio felt Zatanna's magic rise, it leaked out and merged with his own and Atticus', her excitement easily distinguishable as her magic leaped and sparked.

"All forms?"

"All." Atticus confirmed. "Even Wiccan magic, without all the restrictions placed by Nature, of course."

"Is Death stronger than Nature?" His daughter asked, an assessing frown on her face.

"Indeed it is." Ignacio was glad his daughter caught onto that.

"How?"

He smiled before saying in a voice that seemed to demand his children's complete and undivided attention. "Well, _hijos míos,_ life and death are a cycle but not necessarily a balanced cycle. Death has always been stronger." His voice was hypnotizing as his children stared at the fire-lion, which changed form once more due to Ignacio's own magical manipulations; forming a distinguishable visage of a tree growing upon a lush grassy forest floor.

"Think of it this way; there is a tree growing deep in a forest, filled to the brim with life; Nature is obviously blessing it. But Death soon comes, it affects the very soil upon which the tree grows, seeping it of it's life till the tree, too, is dead." The tree of flames withered and crumbled, just as darker coils of the fire crawled over the forest floor seeming to darken and harden it.

"Until Death does not _allow_ life to seep back into the soil, there can never be another tree growing there. The soil shall remain dead till Death recedes it grasp on it and only then _lets_ life, let's Nature to breathe its blessing into it once more." The crawling tendrils of fire receded and the darkened blaze that was the forest floor lightened in color, as a sprout erupted from the ground at the same spot where the previous tree had been.

Zatanna and Atticus (although he had heard this all before) stared at the fire constructs with avid interest.

"There can be no life without death." Ignacio quoted, his children snapping their heads into his direction.

"We can do anything." Atticus informed his sister. "Papa said we have no limits because Death has not given us any restrictions."

"What if we lose ourselves in the process?" Zatanna asked looking cautious, as if it was too good to be true, as if their _had_ to be a catch.

Silly girl.

That was the point.

There was _no_ catch.

They were bound to Death, _not_ Nature. And Death did not believe in Nature's attempts of misguided balance. You could have it all and Death wouldn't bat an eyelash, Death wouldn't go out of the way to make sure there was a weakness to the strength so they were _balanced out._ That was Mother Nature's ploy. Death simply _didn't care._ And those bound to Death; those whom Death _favored_ cared even less. Nature dared not _touch_ them; touch that which belonged to Death.

Hence, the Asturias family motto;

 _Mors nobis favet; Death favors us._

"We can't lose ourselves, unlike the Wiccan who only have two extremes; light or dark magic- and isn't that utterly romanticized, they only see the world as black and white. There are those who practice light magic are those who are the most disparaging, judgmental; the ones who are the _perfect_ servants of nature and anything against nature's laws are considered abominations. Then there are those who practice dark magic, the magic provided by nature that the Wiccan cannot control is considered _dark_ -moronic, I _know._ They cannot control it and are instead consumed by it, thus considered dark."

"There is no in-between." Zatanna murmured.

" _Exactly."_ Ignacio felt pleased at his daughter's quick grasp. "An Asturias can practice _all_ the magic Wiccan can, _all_ the magic they _cannot_ and so much _more._ They're are _no_ limitations and _no_ drawbacks."

"Because, Death favors us." Comprehension (finally) followed quickly by pure, unrestrained fascination flashed over her face.

Ignacio and Atticus gave her identical smirks.

Good, she finally understood what it meant to be an Asturias.

Zatanna opened her mouth to undoubtedly ask more, before she paused and violently shuddered, an action her brother mimicked at the exact same moment.

Ignacio frowned, his magic reaching towards his children in concern-

-Before, the soul bond connecting him to Pauline lit up with distress and pain.

And Ignacio was consumed with fury.

 _He would make Abby Bennett_ _ **beg for death.**_

* * *

 _ **7th March, 1996; Bennett Household, Mystic Falls; Virginia, United States of America.**_

Abby had no choice.

Really, she didn't.

She had to do this. For Miranda and for Elena.

They were innocents. They never asked to be hunted by the _Original Hunter._

Fuck it all. _She_ never asked to have magic. All her life, she tried to fit in, to somehow ignore her magical heritage that her mother seemed so keen on reminding her of.

What was so special about being a Bennett anyway? Bennett witches seemed to have only lives of misery written in their fates, Abby was no different.

 _Normal, I just wanted to be normal. Why couldn't I be_ _ **normal?**_

That was also largely part of the reason why she had married Rudy, he hated all things magic and with him, Abby could pretend to be _normal._

She stared at Pauline's fallen form; she had caught her cousin off guard, otherwise Abby might not have been able to knock her out (at the back of her mind, jealousy sparked; how could Pauline live so happily with her lovely family? Why was Pauline not bothered by her magic? Why did Pauline have amazing control over her magic? Why wasn't she suffering like Abby was?). She had used a rolling pin to hit Pauline in the back of her head, before she cast a spell to ensure that her cousin stayed asleep.

Abby was thankful her mother was out, Sheila would have been disgusted and horrified with her actions.

She knew that after this; she could never come home. Never see _Bonnie._

No, she was doing this for Miranda and Elena.

 _What about Bonnie? Your own daughter?_ Her treacherous mind whispered.

 _She would understand._ She thought back, dismissively.

Abby dragged her cousin's limp body towards her car and with a bit effort on her part, managed to lift Pauline onto the back seat.

 _Family is sacred._ A voice sounding suspiciously like her mother's chimed through her mind. _A Bennett always helps their own._

But, Abby was the one who needed help.

Pauline was helping her, wasn't she? She came all the way from Barcelona to Mystic Falls. The two had spent over a month, casting protective, defensive and repelling charms and hexes over the Gilbert's and the rest of their close ones.

To make sure, _Mikael_ didn't touch anyone.

But Abby knew it wasn't enough, she had found a desiccating spell in one of her mother's grimoires, but it utilized too much of nature's dark magic and Abby couldn't do it alone. She had broached the subject with Pauline, who had straight out refused.

 _"You could die, Abby."_ Pauline had sternly informed.

 _"Not if I siphon magic from you."_ Abby had responded feeling hopeful. Mikael couldn't die but he could be detained.

 _"I won't take the risk, I have my own family to think about."_ Her cousin stated firmly.

 _"We are your family."_ She, herself, had snapped angrily.

Pauline's eyes darkened and froze over. " _My family is my husband and children. Do not mistaken me, Abby. They will always come first."_

Abby clenched her teeth, burying down the sudden guilt that emerged.

She shouldn't have done this, Pauline had done so much to help her and Abby owed her a debt of gratitude. Pauline would never forgive her, but that was alright. They just had to get this over with, then Abby would spend the rest of her life making it up to Pauline.

They would be fine.

The plan was simple; draw Mikael outside of Mystic Falls boundaries, desiccate him and then entomb him in the ancient crypt she had acquired in Charlotte, North Carolina.

 _They would be fine._

* * *

 **Additional Information:** Pauline Bennett, according to Wikia, is an actual canon character who was the niece of Sheila Bennett, the daughter of Sheila's un-named sibling and was listed as deceased.

'Bonita' is basically the Spanish, Portuguese variant of the Scottish name 'Bonnie'. Both names have the same meaning; 'Pretty, cute, attractive.'

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 **A/N:** I hate Abby XD.

Anyways, Wow.

Like, wow. I am honestly taken aback and pleasantly surprised at the response this story has gained. I'd like to sincerely thank all those who favorited, followed and reviewed this story. It was heart-warming and encouraging and I can never thank you enough.

I'd like to especially thank; **Jankia, ZippyZappy,** **.** **Winchester.** **7, RebeliousOne and time-twilight** for reviewing. And I'd like to thank **Nihama9492** for adding this story into her community; **SI-OC Stories.**

Like/Favorite and Review/Comment, please. I respond to all reviews via PM.

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 **Translations:**

 ** _Seňorita Bonita:_** _Miss Bonita._

 _ **Querida:**_ _Dearest/Dear one._

 _ **Madre:**_ _Mother._

 _ **Mirad esto:**_ _Watch this._

 _ **Pequeňa bruja:**_ _Little witch._

 _ **Pequeňa seňorita:**_ _Little miss._

 _ **Hijos míos:**_ _My children._

 **Note:** All translations were taken with the help of Google. If there are any mistakes, I would like to apologize as I do not know how to speak the language.

 **Edit:** Corrections to translations made with the kind and welcomed help of **Alessandra12,** I am extremely and genuinely grateful for her help.

* * *

 _"Mors nobis favet; Death favors us."_

 _ **-The Asturias Family Motto-**_

* * *

 **Disclaimer** : This is a work of fanfiction; I do not claim any ownership over any characters, situations or anything of relation from the TVD world. I do, however, own the Asturias Family, anything related to them, any other Original-Character introduced and the plot of this particular story.


	5. Chapter III:

**Warnings:** Language, PTSD, Morbid jokes and Dark humor that might offend others e.g. jokes on contemplation of suicide, these are just used to describe the rather morbid sense of humor the character/s may have and are in no means used to offend anyone or make light of the serious topics that may be mentioned. For any sensitive topic used in a joke, I apologize in advance and hope you keep in mind I meant no offense.

 **Note:** The dialogues in Italic show that the speakers are either a form of flashbacks or communicating in a different language, in this case spanish.

* * *

 **Funeral: Definition:** ** _(Noun) A ceremony or service held shortly after a person's death, usually including the person's burial or cremation._**

 ** _'The funeral was over, at last I could cry. Except that I couldn't. My tears, kept in too long, had fossilized. They would have to stay in forever now.'_**

 **-Diane Setterfield-**

 ** _'~The winds of change are blowing the sands of time, All that remains are footprints in our minds, They come and go and take away the past, The winds of change will never let things last~'_**

 **-Winds of Change; Linda Lewis and Biddu Orchestra-**

* * *

 **Chapter III:**

 ** _11th March, 1996; Asturias Estates, Barcelona; Autonomous Community of Catalonia, Spain._**

It still hadn't completely registered, if she was being honest.

How could it, though?

It was completely unexpected.

Officially, Pauline Bennett died on the 7th of March, 1996 at the age of twenty seven, reason being a Cardiac Arrest bought on by unforeseen circumstances (she was a healthy woman, after all, the doctors were bothered as they had no understanding to her sudden heart failure). In reality; she passed away because of the immense drainage of her magic and life force leading to over-exhaustion and failure of her heart to function properly.

Now, Zatanna was no saint. Far from it, but she had only ever wished _agonizing retribution_ -in both her lives- to one other individual apart from Abby Bennett; and in the end, that person died by her hands.

She had never really had a mother (not as far as she could _remember)_ in her past life. And in her current life, she was granted this _beautiful_ and _amazing_ person that was Pauline Bennett.

A woman who was everything a good mother should be; kind, compassionate, stern when needed, sarcastic to a fault and possessing a rather morbid sense of humor. But it was everything that made her fall in love with her Pauline. It was everything Zatanna had ever wanted -needed- and so much more.

The fact that she would never see her mother's smiling face again; that _hurt._ In ways that was unexplainable. One could never truly describe the pain of loss brought on by the death of a loved one, especially if said loved one was a parent.

That pain soon gave way to rage and Zatanna didn't care that she was physically three years old, she simply wanted her mother's cousin to _suffer_.

Although, if she recalled the grim satisfaction on her Father's face after he had returned from his pursuit of Abby; following her disgusting betrayal, Zatanna was assured that wherever the woman was, she was regretting ever invoking the wrath of the Asturias; begging for the sweet relief, only death could provide her now.

Hence, the conundrum.

For Death favored the Asturias, and Abby Bennett had defied them, therefore, defying Death too.

And Death was not kind to those who crossed it.

Or at least that's what her Father had told her. Personally, Zatanna was viciously pleased; to know that Death was by their side (and would always remain so) gave a sense of _power_ unlike anything.

Ignacio, in the matters of funeral arrangements, had been adamant in having Pauline buried back in Barcelona; back _home._

 _"The day I met Pauline,"_ He had said to a weary Sheila (Zatanna reminded herself, that it was Sheila's own daughter who had committed such atrocious deeds and that the old woman couldn't say anything in her defense for the fear of angering her powerful nephew-in-law and because there was _nothing_ to say in defense), his expression set to stone. _"Was the day she ceased to simply be a Bennett. No, from that day onward, she belonged to me and to my family. So, I shall remain resolute in my claim that she will be buried as an Asturias, Seňora Bennett."_

Her Grand-Aunt said nothing in response and simply bowed her head in an absolute display of submission and respect (Zatanna was beginning to suspect that their family -The Asturias- seemed to hold great authority and a position of utmost importance in the magical world).

And so she was brought to the current situation; back in Barcelona and attending what her father had called 'An Asturias funeral, a breath-taking event-rare as they are' (a statement she would think upon in further detail at a later date) with her older brother and father by her side.

Speaking of, Atticus had been subdued ever since they first found out about their mother's newly acquired deceased status, not that she blamed him (she was much the same way), and looked worse for wear; his eyes bloodshot and puffy with his face being horrifically and utterly blank. Zatanna stood by his side and was clutching his hand tightly, her own eyes shone with unfallen tears.

The remaining family of three were deep in the forests of the Asturias Estates, it was an odd setting; a few minutes before the moon reached it's peak, stormy clouds littering the night sky. The grass wet with dew, cold against their bare feet. They were standing in a clearing of trees, with stone pillars forming a round boundary, there was a raised altar within the boundary of pillars and their mother's lifeless body lay upon it.

It was rather heartbreaking to see her _so_ still. Pauline Bennett was not a woman who remained still, she was lively and seeing her lying there; cold and unmoving, her body preserved with the help of magic, the brutal reality of their loss seemed to sink in.

Zatanna's grip on Atticus' hand tightened to the point where her knuckles turned white. Atticus did not react to the pain she was sure her grip had caused. Instead, he too stared at their mother's body with glassy, blank eyes.

Zatanna felt her father coming up behind them, placing a strong, warm hand on each of their shoulders.

 _"Your madre named you both,"_ He started suddenly and rather spontaneously, Zatanna and Atticus both listening attentively to their father's smooth tenor; the Spanish words sounding musical to his tongue. _"Atticus and Zatanna,"_ He pronounced each name carefully. _"She chose both names because of what they meant to her."_

He looked down at Atticus, staring deep into his eyes. _"She named you after her favorite character, Atticus Finch, from her favorite book; To Kill A Mockingbird."_ He then glanced at Zatanna with an expressionless face but warm, sorrowful eyes. _"And named you after the magician she adored from a comic series; Zatanna Zatara."_

He paused to gather his thoughts, and Zatanna mused that this was an entirely random one-sided discussion (She would, however, be honest when she said that she _had_ wondered what her parents were thinking while naming her after a comic book character -Zatanna, _really?_ ) but perhaps it was a memory their father cherished, this conversation was -perhaps- a moment where he was projecting the loss of his wife; the other half of his _soul._

" _She hoped that you both would be better than your fictional namesakes, that you would rise above them and...the aesthetic behind your names, hijos míos, is more than a simple hope. What I'm attempting to say is; live up to the expectations left behind by the woman who named you. Surpass those expectations, be the powerful individuals your mother and I knew- know you can be. You are both a Bennett and an Asturias. You are the legacy she left behind."_

If the man wanted to make her cry, he succeeded effortlessly.

 _"Live_ _ **beyond**_ _your names, hijos míos, become_ _ **more**_ _than your mother ever imagined."_ He smiled tenderly. _"Your mother is dead. But not gone. Never gone, in a few moments Death will welcome her with open arms. Your names are a constant reminder to the legacy she left behind; You, her precious children."_

And while she had _liked_ that her name was unique, that was perhaps the moment Zatanna genuinely fell in _love_ with her name. It was _hers;_ something her mother had given her, something she would _always_ carry with her.

Her mother's first and last gift to her.

Glancing at her older brother, she knew he felt the same way; his eyes suddenly seemed brighter, a small smile playing on his lips, as he rubbed the tear tracks from his cheeks.

 _"Ah, it is time."_ Their father murmured, his eyes bright as he stared up at the moon. _"Watch carefully, hijos míos, for Death is within reach."_

Zatanna shivered, not out of fear, no, more out of a _need._ An indescribable need to fully understand the implications of _Death._ To fully grasp the concept of being _favored_ by Death (because wasn't that awe-inducing all on its own?).

And then-

-she felt it.

Power _quaked_ within the circle made by the uneven stone pillars, the markings carved upon them -runic symbols, she recognized quickly- gleamed as silver flooded within the engravings, an immediate after affect of the moon's silver lustre shining upon the clearing.

And while it was hauntingly beautiful, what demanded her _immediate_ attention was the presence she felt encompass the entire expanse of the age-old forests they stood within.

A presence -a mass of pure power that, she could tell, was as old as time. _No_ , that was not quite right. It was an existence which had been present, perhaps, _before_ even the beginning of time.

Zatanna had felt Mother Nature's presence before, her mother (Damn it, her heart hurt, knowing that she would never again have those mother-daughter talks) had sat both her and her brother down, holding their hands as she showed them her own connection to Nature.

Mother Nature was, Zatanna had decided, much like sunshine. Bright, warm and filled with life (and everything _perfect_ , it was a sickening concept) and did not have an entity on its own. She was simply present in the gifts of nature surrounding them; was old in a way that roots of a tree were; found deep within the earth with a distinct olden feel.

Mother Nature, however, did not hold a miniscule fraction of the _sheer_ _power_ and _ancient ambience_ to what Death's simple presence brought.

Idly, Zatanna wondered if Death _did_ unleash all of its (his?) intensity (she was _sure_ what she was currently feeling was not even a fraction of its might) then what would remain of the mortal plane? And that itself was a revering thought.

Mother Nature had a soothing presence, Death was a _possessing_ one. And Zatanna found she preferred that.

She didn't need to be soothed or calmed or anything useless of the sort. She _needed_ what Death had already given her; what she was freely provided at her birth; Death's respect and love.

Mother Nature required her Wiccan's to serve her, to keep her _balance_ (and yes, she was being mocking). She gave _nothing_ in return.

Death, on other hand, _gave them everything._ To have Death's love and respect meant they were virtually untouchable.

After all, Death took care of what was his. And the Asturias were _completely his._

Zatanna was overwhelmed when this overpowering, primordial but oddly comforting existence consumed her entire being.

 _My mortal._ An indistinguishable, lilting croon invaded her mental senses. _My precious mortal._

Zatanna shivered, humbled. She realized that any normal person would be scared, but all she could feel was safe. She _belonged_ to Death, she had nothing to fear.

After all, she had never feared Death before, not even in her past life, and she sure as hell wasn't starting now.

 _My mortal._ The two words were repeated but sounded fonder and distinctly pleased. _Never fear. My little mortal from another existence._

 _._

 _._

 _._

Of course.

Of-fucking-course, Death _would_ know that she was a reborn soul. She wouldn't be surprised if Death, itself, had anything to do with her rebirth.

Her thoughts paused here.

While that had initially been a sarcastic thought, it held more merit than anything she could ever theorize to explain her rebirth.

A pleased chuckle floated through her mind making her gasp. _Smart mortal. Worry not, all will be revealed._

And the unembodied continuance that was Death receded from her mind completely, but its embrace remained around her form; warm and safe and _consuming._

So deep in her thoughts and utterly enamoured by Death's presence she was, that she never noticed her surroundings, the silver runes on the stone pillars while still glowing seemed dimmer than before. The shadows of said pillars had extended towards the altar, crawling dark tendrils that steadily climbed the raised pedestal stopping just short of the female body laying upon it.

Sudden numbness in her hand had her snapping her head to Atticus' direction (he was still holding her hand). Zatanna had forgotten that she wasn't here alone.

Her older brother had pure, unrestrained wonder painted across his face, she wondered if Death spoke to him as well. She suspected that it was true, his eyes glowed luminously much like their father's (her own were probably the same way) and his cheeks were flushed in exhilaration.

She noticed -with vague surprise- that all three of them had their magic pushed outwards and it hummed in the air, converging with the Death's thrumming power.

Her father glanced down at her and smirked.

Zatanna would admit; _never_ in both her lives had she seen a smirk _that_ smug.

Ignacio Asturias was fucking awesome.

Her attention snapped back to the altar when the shadow tendrils rose up, moving ever so slowly towards her mother's body.

Sudden panic seized her, an inkling that became apparent; this would be the last time she saw her mother and she _had_ to commit her to memory. Zatanna would forever hate herself if she forgot the woman who gave birth to her, who was there every _step_ of the way, whose warm glomping hugs always made her day, who-

 _Peace, my mortals._ A sweet whisper, invaded her frantic thoughts. _She is yours, hence, she is mine. I take care of what is mine._

And just like that, the panic flickered away. Glancing at her brother and father, she knew they had heard the voice as well.

Both looked on with relieved ease, a sentiment she easily reciprocated. They watched the shadows gently blanket their mother's corpse; and watched on as the shadows slowly receded, the body within its clutches seeming to have melted into them, leaving the altar bare.

And just before the dark tendrils returned to their respective stone pillars, Zatanna swore she saw the dark mass shape into a corporeal humanoid form, but it was there one moment and gone in the next.

 _My mortals._ Death's final words, a soft proud lilt. _**Mine.**_

Zatanna let loose a shuddering gasp when the presence vanished. As if it was never there.

And she leaned heavily against her father's leg, the adrenaline coursing through her veins finally subsiding leaving her exhausted yet invigorated.

 _"Mama will thrive, won't she?"_ Atticus spoke, his voice loud compared to the silent breeze dancing with the lush tree leaves. His uttered words more of a statement than a question.

Their father's lips curved upwards in a manner that was achingly sad yet peaceful. " _Indeed, querido."_

Zatanna's eyes were stuck at the altar, noticing there was no immediate sign that their mother ever lay upon it.

 _"We belong to Death."_ She spoke, utter conviction lining her words. For the love of all that was holy- _Death just spoke to her._ Screw everything else. To know _that_ very entity was within reach, could have easily taken their lives but didn't because they already belonged to it; that was a venerating fact. _"Death belongs to us too. Right, Papa?"_

And this time Ignacio's smirk was mirrored by both his children.

 _"Sí pequeňa bruja."_

* * *

 ** _7th August, 1996; Bennett Household, Mystic Falls; Virginia, United States of America._**

It was Atticus' sixth birthday.

He was in a melancholic mood, not that she blamed him of course. It was his first birthday without their mother ( _"Think happy thoughts,"_ she had told him, being an utter hypocrite in doing so as she herself was internally crying, because _Mama_ ) and he _missed_ her and seemed to be brooding.

The two siblings were currently sitting in Sheila Bennett's living room, Zatanna and Bonnie curled on either side of Atticus; engrossed in the photo album on Atticus' lap.

The picture that captured the siblings attention was one of their mother and her own parents. Pauline was smiling at the camera, her hair; dark ebony locks pulled into a ponytail. Her skin, the lightest shade of brown gleamed from where she stood in the sunlight and her eyes; hazel brown expressing her genuine happiness. She was young; perhaps four years old(?), her arms around the shoulders of her parents; Sophia Bennett and Anthony Adler.

Zatanna knew her maternal grandparents were dead -who wasn't, in this bloody universe?- her grandmother passing away from an illness, she wasn't entirely sure of what the ailment was but it was terminal, and her grandfather dying during the Vietnam War, in the early days of March, 1975.

This was perhaps the foremost reason on why she respected her deceased grandfather. He was a soldier just as she was (had been), both dying in the line of duty.

Zatanna decided that while her mother took after Sophia Bennett (mostly) in coloring; a beautiful woman with black hair and caramel skin and eyes just like her daughter's, Pauline Bennett's true resemblance was to her father; who was tall and had gold curls and intelligent grey eyes and pale skin that never seemed to catch a tan but his facial structure (which he shared with his daughter) was angular yet rounded softly; eye-captivating, in a way that made you stare once you caught sight of them.

Zatanna had noticed that both she and Atticus looked exactly like their father. She meant that quite literally; In fact, had it not been for the obvious age difference, Zatanna and Atticus would be mistaken for identical twins. She suspected that when they grew older and the difference in age wasn't as blatant anymore, they _would_ be mistaken as such.

They both had olive skin (In truth, Zatanna had always wanted her mothers complexion; that rich and smooth light brown, but _apparently_ beggars can't be choosers); their skin colouring was not quite the tanned olive Elena Gilbert possessed, it leaned more towards a light olive tone, just a shade or two darker than it. They had the Asturias eyes, of course and the same shade of hair their father did; a dark honey brown.

Their facial features, like Ignacio's, were all sharp planes and sculpted structures (easily distinguishable even under all the cherubic fat) but with a certain hint of softness that stopped them from appearing gaunt-looking or hollow-cheeked; instead their prominent and defined physiognomy was at once aristocratic and striking in a manner that was elegant and refined.

It was as if even their DNA, their very genetic code wanted to inform them that they might have Bennett blood but they were primarily and dominantly; first and foremost an Asturias.

Somehow, that made her sad. She _wanted_ to resemble her mother, to look in the mirror and see even just a hint of her mother staring back. That was not to say, she didn't appreciate looking exactly like her father; to be honest, she was flattered and pleased she resembled her father (even better was that he was _extremely_ good looking and passed that particular trait to his children).

It was just...

...Mentally, Zatanna Bennett-Asturias was a thirty-five year old woman (almost thirty-nine of you added her age in her second life) but she was still weak to the thought -to the loss- of her mother.

It _fucking_ hurt.

Nothing else to it.

She, somehow, wanted to carry her mother's memory with her, even in the form of resembling facial profiles.

Soft fingers rubbing against her cheeks had her startling and staring up into Bonnie's hazel-green eyes.

"Don't cry." The young Bennett witch said, her voice sounding wobbly, eyes much too wide, and filled with crystalline tears.

Unforgivable.

Because while her own mother had died, at least there was comfort in the thought that she was with Death. Bonnie's mother, on the other hand, had willingly abandoned her.

That was _worse_.

Her anger at Abby renewed.

How _dare_ Abby Bennett discard Bonnie -her own bloody daughter- as if she was nothing.

Bonnie was _hers_. And she deserved the world at her feet. How could Abby even think of leaving behind such a sweet innocent girl?

Zatanna's magic seeped out of her, washing over her older brother and second cousin soothingly.

"We'll stop only if you smile, _Seňorita Bonita."_ Atticus attempted to say teasingly.

Bonnie stared at him for a moment before scrambling down from her perch on the couch and racing down the hall.

Atticus and Zatanna exchanged a bemused glance (Dimly, Zatanna was actually impressed by the level of maturity her brother displayed; she, herself, had an excuse -rebirth, duh- but Atticus was _just_ six).

 _"I'm sorry, querida hermana, I can't help being sad. You shouldn't cry, I apologize for bringing your spirits down."_ Atticus shifted back to their mother tongue, a pitiful, heart breaking smile on his face.

Zatanna stared at him, unable to feel anything but shock.

What in the bloody, fucking hell?

Feeling indignant -because, how could he say that? He was her brother, for the love of Death, _Her_ brother, she'd be damned if she let him feel that way- Zatanna unceremoniously glomped her brother in a bear-hug.

Atticus flailed his arms in surprise and let out a surprised noise.

 _"Cállate, idiota estúpido. You're my brother and you miss Mama, you never need to apologize for that, I'm with you every step of the way. Where you go, I go."_ She responded fiercely.

She had been an only child in her last life and in this life she had an amazing older brother. She would cherish the family she had, their mother's death had showed her that sometimes the time you had was too little. If anything, Zatanna of all people knew that better than anyone.

 _"Si, Where you go, I go."_ Atticus echoed, his smile brighter than before.

"I'm back!" Bonnie announced as she skipped into the room clutching a bright orange hand-made card, which she handed to Atticus with the utmost care.

Atticus offered her a genuine grin and opened the card, only to have a heap of dark blue glitter spill out, staining the front of his white polo T-shirt.

The siblings stared at it for a moment, before Zatanna turned away to hide her sniggers behind her hand.

Atticus huffed and nudged her in the side (quite hardly, if she might add. Seriously, _ouch_ ).

Bonnie smiled happily. "I made it all by myself, so no more being sad~" She said in a sing-song voice, before adding more shyly, "Happy Birthday, Atty."

A pause.

 _"Atty?"_ Atticus repeated in a high-pitched voice, disbelief layering his tone.

And finding this gut-bustingly hilarious, Zatanna would admit, she had never laughed so hard in _both_ her lives.

* * *

 **Additional Information:** 'Bonita' is basically the Spanish, Portuguese variant of the Scottish name 'Bonnie'. Both names have the same meaning; 'Pretty, cute, attractive.'

Date of Births:

Ignacio Asturias: 12th May, 1968.

Pauline Bennett: 1st January, 1969.

Atticus Bennett-Asturias: 7th August, 1990.

Zatanna Bennett-Asturias: 31st October, 1992.

All other birthdays of canon characters are as have been listed according to Wikia, with the only exception being those who's birthdays have not been given, of which I shall take liberty of giving them specific dates of birth myself.

* * *

 **A/N:** First of, I'd like to apologize if the whole Asturias Motto thing is repetitive but its kind of essential because Zatanna is still coming to terms with it.

Also, Abby Bennett's fate will be fully disclosed in the oncoming chapter but let me tell you; it ain't pleasant :D.

Anyways,

I am still genuinely taken aback at the increasing response this story keeps getting.

I can _never_ thank you enough.

Again, special thanks to all who viewed, favourited, followed and reviewed this story; thank you so _so_ much, **time-twilight, ArchangelKoriel, RebeliousOne,** **.Winchester.17** (Sorry about the mistype of your name but every time I try to correct it, the Aliana and Gabriella disappear and believe me I've tried so many times to correct it, I'm so sorry), **Believer91, ZippyZappy, Kristina'sMyName, RoselynFey, PrincessMagic, keikei313 and RenTenTen** for reviewing and leaving your thoughts. I cannot appreciate them enough, to be honest they motivated me.

I also want to thank **salilurker** and **Maester Ta** for adding this story in their communities; **sarah's collection** and **My Self-Insert's Library** respectively.

Like/Favorite and Review/Comment, please. I respond to all reviews via PM.

* * *

 **Translations:**

 ** _Seňora Bennett:_** _Madam Bennett._

 _ **Madre:**_ _Mother._

 _ **Hijos míos:**_ _My children._

 _ **Querido:**_ _Dearest/Dear one. (Used as 'Dear one.')_

 _ **Sí:**_ _Yes._

 _ **Pequeňa bruja:**_ _Little witch._

 _ **Seňorita Bonita:**_ _Miss Bonita._

 _ **Querida hermana:**_ _Dear sister._

 ** _Cállate, idiota estúpido:_** _Shut up, stupid moron._

 **Note:** All translations were taken with the help of Google. If there are any mistakes, I would like to apologize as I do not know how to speak the language.

 **Edit:** Corrections to translations made with the kind and welcomed help of **Alessandra12,** I am extremely and genuinely grateful for her help.

* * *

 _"Mors nobis favet; Death favors us."_

 _ **-The Asturias Family Motto-**_

* * *

 **Disclaimer** : This is a work of fanfiction; I do not claim any ownership over any characters, situations or anything of relation from the TVD world. I do, however, own the Asturias Family, anything related to them, any other Original-Character introduced and the plot of this particular story.


	6. Chapter IV:

**Warnings:** Language, PTSD, Death, Violence, Morbid jokes and Dark humor that might offend others e.g. jokes on contemplation of suicide, these are just used to describe the rather morbid sense of humor the character/s may have and are in no means used to offend anyone or make light of the serious topics that may be mentioned. For any sensitive topic used in a joke, I apologize in advance and hope you keep in mind I meant no offense.

 **Note:** The dialogues in Italic show that the speakers are either a form of flashbacks or communicating in a different language, in this case spanish.

* * *

 **Sleep: Definition:** ** _(Noun)_** _ **A condition of body and mind which typically recurs for several hours every night, in which the nervous system is inactive, the eyes closed, the postural muscles relaxed, and consciousness practically suspended.**_

 _ **'The best bridge between despair and hope is a good night's sleep.'**_

 **-E. Joseph Cossman-**

 ** _'~We all are living in a dream, But life ain't what it seems, Oh everything's a mess, And all these sorrows I have seen, They lead me to believe, That everything's a mess.~'_**

 **-Dream; Imagine Dragons-**

* * *

 **Chapter IV:**

 ** _23rd December, 1998; Asturias Household, Mystic Falls; Virginia, United States of America._**

Her nightmares were becoming an increasingly _annoying_ predicament.

Had they possessed a tangible and physical form, she would have gladly put them through concentrated doses of psychotic mental torture, just so they _themselves_ would have recurring night terrors for the rest of their days.

That's how wholly _done_ she was.

Also, on a completely unrelated note; her father was a slave-driver.

And he hated Mystic Falls.

Granted, she and Atticus sympathized (they felt the exact same way) but at least they weren't _obvious_ about it.

Wait.

No.

On second thought, she'll hold her tongue on that particular matter, seeing as both Asturias siblings had always made it clear that they loathed Mystic Falls and everything in it, except Bonnie and Sheila, of course...and maybe Tyler, because that kid was literally an adorable huffy, grumpy puppy (who, admittedly, made moronic decisions in his future but the sentiment remained).

The answer as to _why_ , exactly, they remained in the self-absorbed and arrogant town that was more commonly known as 'Mystic Falls' eluded her (Seriously, what even _was_ the founders council? Apart from being shameless, conceited arseholes, that is. They didn't even originate the damned town, that particular privilege went to the Original family, her own maternal ancestor; Ayana and all the other inhabitants who lived here over a millennia ago). But she supposed her father had a reason, even if he _did_ constantly show his displeasure.

Her only solace was the schedule her family maintained and followed; spend eight months in Mystic Falls, from the start of September till the end of April, and the remaining four months back in Barcelona. Of course, this was a routine that she and Atticus followed more, seeing as their father, on the other hand, generally took various trips back to Spain throughout the eight months they spend in Mystic Falls. She knew it was because of the family business and his responsibilities as a noble lord but it still didn't quite stop the envious feelings she had become accustomed to whenever Ignacio gave them a half-smug and half-sadistic smirk just before he left for his trips (Lucky bastard).

In their father's absence, the siblings stayed with their Grand-Aunt; Sheila Bennett which meant an increase in interactions with Bonnie (an occurrence, Zatanna would confess, pleased her) _but_ it also meant an influx of unneeded encounters with the rest of the future(?) Scooby gang's members.

Now, Zatanna didn't really mind spending time with the cute toddlers; in fact she really quite adored Tyler Lockwood, his anger while being an issue in the future was currently only _hilarious_ temper tantrums, and when he wasn't being an attention-seeking brat (and she said so with the greatest of affection) he was an absolutely upbeat child, who believed in being a brave _man_ (she couldn't stop sniggering when he first said it out loud) while contradicting himself by running to her and Atticus (mostly Atticus, she would grudgingly concede), clinging to them in various forms of warm bear hugs at everything that frightened him (which was quite a number of things).

Caroline Forbes was an innocent ball of chirpiness who wore her heart in her sleeve, it was endearing truly, and Zatanna had already begun musing on how she could get rid of the insecurities and self-confidence problems the young bubbly blonde would be plagued with in the oncoming years.

Matt and Vicki Donovan were surprisingly (or unsurprisingly) sweet, responsible children (she was unimpressed with Kelly Donovan's attitude and made sure to watch out for the two siblings because _astonishingly_ both possessed effective puppy-dog eyes) who did their best not to trouble others.

Jeremy Gilbert was a quiet boy and generally clung to his mother, Miranda Gilbert, not leaving her side.

Which brought her to Elena Gilbert.

To be honest, she wasn't sure what to think about the cheerful brunette. Being unsure as she was, Zatanna generally ignored her. Because, in complete honesty, she had hated Elena Gilbert's character in the show and now, faced with the actual person...Zatanna _really_ wasn't sure what to think of her.

But she had drifted in her thoughts.

At her father's absence they were left in their Grand-Aunt's presence, but that didn't mean they were left idle to spend their days in relaxed freedom and fun-filled play times.

Oh, no, Heaven forbid they _actually_ enjoyed themselves. This is where her previously mentioned statement of her father being a slave-driver came in.

Because, apparently, being born to a lineage that consisted of nothing _but_ nobles -especially an old _magical_ family like the Asturias, who, perhaps, held more wealth than Spain's royal family- meant you were brought up as the epitome of aristocracy.

As it was, (here, particularly, Zatanna was laughing sarcastically) being rich was one thing, living up to your wealth; being bred to be elitists was another thing entirely.

And, believe her, it was much more easier said than done.

She, now, possessed _immense_ respect for the rich arrogant snobs who looked down upon everyone else as if they were beneath them. In her opinion, if their upbringing was even a fraction of what hers was turning up to be, than they _deserved_ to be arrogant, rich snobs because, in reality, all other individuals (except fellow aristocrats) _were_ beneath them.

She could clearly recall the sheer disgust on her father's face when Carol Lockwood (she disliked that woman immensely) questioned whether or not he would be enrolling his children in the local schools of Mystic Falls or institutions back in Barcelona.

 _"I will not put my children in such backward systems of education, Seňora Lockwood. I assure you, they will be brought up to be the nobles they are, that you needn't concern yourself with."_ Her father had replied stiffly.

After which, Zatanna had questioned the idea behind whichever otherworldly force had been bored and thought it would be a _wonderful_ idea to toss a dying soldier in a fictional world with a slave-driver as a father (no matter how awesome said father was).

She paused in her thoughts, because if Death really did have a hand in her rebirth than it wouldn't do well to question him. Yet.

But she digressed; her father's educational regime was inhumane.

First, he was determined his children were multilingual, and in saying so; he didn't mean fluent in a couple of languages and done with it (as if it would be that easy), Not at all, he meant fluent in _all_ languages (bar a few, of course...probably... _maybe)_. He didn't care whether it took them all their lives to learn the languages; dead ones included, but they _would_ be learned. _That,_ he was adamant on.

Zatanna was unspeakably grateful that she was already fluent in two languages; Irish Gaelic (she _had_ been an Irishwoman in her past life, after all) and French. Her fluency in the knowledge of languages included her easy understanding of Latin (she could never thank her past life's orphanage matron enough, no matter how much she had complained about the old mum -Seriously, why and where would _anyone_ need to use Latin?- because obviously the old woman had known what she was talking about -even though, she had actually been motivated to teach them the dead language only so they could read the Bible in its oldest language excluding the Greek of the New testament and the Hebrew of the Old testament... _still_ it's the thought that counts).

Zatanna could now proudly (and with grudging admiration for her father, extreme gratefulness for her excellent memory and ease in grasping knowledge -she gave credit to her inner knowledge-seeker- and immense respect for her brother; who was going through exactly what she was) say that she was currently fluent in speaking six languages, including Irish, French and Latin but excluding English. The remaining three languages included Spanish (because, obviously, she was a proud Spaniard in this life), Greek (Ancient and Modern) and Bulgarian (Because it was Katerina Petrova's birth language and Zatanna wanted an edge over her, and how better than to _at least_ cause the second-but-mistaken-as-first doppelgänger unease than by speaking the language that was her first?).

Her fluency in the above six, seven if you included English, did not count her natural and easy understanding of Egyptian hieroglyphs and Ancient Runes. In truth, the first languages Ignacio had his children taught were Greek, Latin, Egyptian hieroglyphs and Ancient Runes.

 _"The languages that you will use in incantations, hijos míos, better to understand them completely than to learn specific words and threaten yourself with mispronunciations and ignorance."_ He had explained at the beginning of her lessons with private tutors.

Zatanna was currently absorbed in learning Italian and Chinese; Chinese was hard, by the way, especially with all its different dialects. So, after a correction to the earlier assessment, Zatanna was actually _only_ learning Italian.

Second in the educational plan, their father emphasized their need to be perfect in spoken and written language.

 _"Words are nothing_ _ **but**_ _power, pequeňa seňorita. A single sentence, can be expressed in various ways all with the help of choosing correct words and a desired tone of expression."_ He looked uncharacteristically solemn. _"Words can start wars just as easily as they can end them. I expect nothing but impeccable language from you and your hermano at all times."_

Now, this particular lesson was something she easily agreed on. Her father obviously knew what he was talking about and it was something she had taught herself in her past life as well.

You could have all the power in the world just with a few handful of words.

Her lessons included typical course subjects, but _advanced_ , of-fucking-course. Zatanna most particularly enjoyed Literature, Language and History (Modern and Ancient). She also held an appreciation for the Arts and Sciences. Mathematics, as always, was something she abhorred; especially with all its various sub-topics. But her father was a heartless perfectionist who demanded nothing short of excellence and precision. And being the pleasing daughter she was (because she might complain the bloody hell out of this so-called educational plan -more of a death sentence- but Ignacio was _still_ awesome and Zatanna was _still_ a daddy's girl), Zatanna could do nothing _but_ deliver to his expectations.

Thankfully, though, subjects under the headings of humanities and commerce and etcetra were something she didn't have to learn just yet.

Now, Zatanna was mentally an adult woman who had gone through the entire schooling system and that was perhaps the reason that she could sit through learning the subjects with relative ease (personally, she was also a _tiny_ bit glad; she wouldn't have to go back to _school_ ); it did turn into having an adverse reaction though, because apparently going through her lessons with bored and effortless proficiency meant getting harder and advanced lessons.

That was _not_ good. Because it meant she started struggling (that stung, because she might have been an average student in her past life with an amazingly good memory and a penchant for pouring over her notes a mere day before the exams and somehow passing with exceptional grades, but she still had an adult mind and the fact she struggled _at all_ was a rather huge blow to her pride), her only consolation was that everything given to her in the form of lessons were actually _very_ hard, even for an adult mind (she hoped).

Zatanna further mused, that she genuinely did enjoy her musical and dance lessons, as opposed to _basically_ everything else.

She found that she especially preferred playing the Violin; even more than her other favourites, the Guitar and Piano.

That was so, because while the Guitar was uplifting music and the Piano; utterly melodic. The Violin seemed capable of producing beautiful _soulful_ notes. And Zatanna adored the music she could extract from the instrument while playing it.

Which brought her to dance lessons; Zatanna loved the freeing movements required in the various and countless dances taught to her; although, she really didn't like Ballet (she supposed it had some advantages i.e increasing her body's flexibility and fluidity _but_ her toes hurt, _damnit_ ).

Magical lessons, Physical training and Etiquette were all parts of her regime, as well.

Magical lessons were enlightening, as always, and the theory behind them was utterly interesting. On such note, Zatanna now knew what magical bonds were. Apparently, it was something that was only _dominantly_ present within the Asturias; that is, that bond magic was present in generally _all_ things but the Asturias were more acutely aware and attuned to it.

Bond magic, as her father explained, were tendrils of your spirit-your soul that connected you, tethered you to other individuals. For Asturias, it was individuals that they either felt particularly strongly about or their magic recognized their importance thus connecting two or more individuals.

She had a bond with Bonnie (which, admittedly, explained her sudden attachment to Bonnie). It was a familial and protective bond, as her father explained, and all bonds were experienced both ways (which, again, explained Bonnie's attachment to her, as well).

He had further explained that every member of the Asturias family had a bond with one another. Which had led to Atticus asking whether Ignacio had been bonded to their mother.

He had smiled. And Zatanna's heart had leapt to her throat at the utterly _sad_ expression. _"We had a soul bond, hijos míos, my magic recognized her as my other half. An Asturias, only ever pairs themselves with their other half, remember that, always."_

Zatanna's heart ached at the thought of their father's loss; that had lost a mother but Ignacio had lost his _other half._

Needing to rid herself of her sudden depressive thoughts, Zatanna returned her attention to her studies.

Physical Training was body-aching and harsh and completely _invigorating_. She was relieved, because she didn't have to make excuses to train herself to be physically fit (she had been a soldier, she _needed_ to return her body to its physical prowess).

Her physical training included gymnastics, hand to hand combat in forms of the countless styles of martial arts, endurance, horse-riding (apparently, her father had decided that his children would eventually play polo), art of weaponry; by which she didn't _only_ mean shooting arms, she meant _fucking_ swords and shields and archery and glaives and all such fighting arms as well.

Being an old _Spanish_ family, meant that you were perfect in the art of war as well.

 _"Asturias, mi hija."_ Her father told her, a playful smirk on his face. _"You may have magic but why should that be reason for lacking in all other aspects of life? As Asturias, you will have many enemies, why not have the entire battle planned before they have even thought of you as a threat?"_

Why, indeed? She _loved_ that man.

Etiquette was something she held grudging appreciation for; she respected the need for etiquette and it's results (a proper posture and finesse at handling yourself could do wonders) but she resented the effort needed.

Her tutor for that particular lesson, was amused at that particular thought when Zatanna had once shared it with her; saying that eventually she would reach a point where everything she will do in the matter of etiquettes would be delivered with effortless expertise.

Zatanna was _dying_ for the day when such became reality.

The young six-year old was pulled out of her contemplative thoughts at the beep of her digital clock, signifying the turn of a new hour.

 **03:00 am.**

Zatanna shifted beneath her sheets, rubbing at her eyes blearily. She was _exhausted._ And yet those damned nightmares (memories), continued to plague her every night she didn't use the simple dreamless sleep incantation. As it was, she could only use it for four nights a week, else she might become too dependent on the spell and effect her healing process; which, admittedly, wasn't much healing as she still hadn't told anyone and honestly, she didn't want to cause herself more harm anymore, and being so utterly _done_ as she was, Zatanna decided to tell her father as soon as he arrived from his return flight from Barcelona in a few hours (he wanted to come in time to celebrate Christmas; it was an excuse really, none of them particularly cared for the holiday but their mother had loved it so they celebrated for her; to keep her memory alive. Also it was the holiday season and he had no reason to remain in Barcelona. Personally, she had been hoping he would call _them_ home, but sadly those hopes dashed soon enough).

The only reason she had delayed it as long as she had was because she was -foolishly- hoping that the night terrors would fade away and somewhere she also feared her fathers reaction. What if he didn't understand and reacted badly? It was a _stupid_ but blameless thought. Nervousness was guaranteed in revealing the truth of her birth.

Angry at herself, now that she thought about it, because what idiot would cause themselves even more trauma just because of unfounded fear? And Zatanna prided herself in being smart _not_ a moron. It had taken too long, already. She would tell her father _everything_.

With that notion in mind, Zatanna turned to her side and closed her eyes, _praying_ that she would have a few hours of restful sleep.

* * *

 _She could smell smoke and dust._

 _The sun shone blearingly through the cracks within the wooden planks covering the windows. The staircase behind her groaned, creaking dangerously._

 _All her attention, however, was on the blank onyx eyes that stared at her gleefully._

 _She swallowed thickly, her eyes trained on gun held against the temple of the battered yet alive from of a young boy._

 _"Please," She spoke, her voice cracking and the sniper rifle held in her arms shook minutely, "Please, don't make me do it."_

 _Cracked lips stretched into a maniacal smile, revealing yellowed teeth._

 _The trigger pulled._

 _The body, with wide, hopeless eyes thumped to the floor as if it meant nothing._

 _The rifle slipped through her fingers as her eyes widened in despair._

 _She raced forward, easily disarming the gun that had just a moment ago taken the life of its victim; taken it because she wasn't willing to take the life of the offender, because of her moment of weakness._

 _Her hands reached up, grasping the slender neck and giving it a violent twist-_

 _A sickening snap echoed._

 _The frail body slumped in her arms._

 _She collapsed to her knees, holding the body close, cradled in her arms, the onyx eyes now blank only because they were lifeless, the lips remained stretched in a haunting smile._

 _An agonized snarl left her lips and-_

* * *

-And Zatanna shot up with a short yell, unconsciously she rolled off her bed, slamming on the ground in a shaking heap of blankets and limbs.

She struggled to breath, panic clawed its way inside her, her heart beat rapidly and she struggled to differentiate -to distinguish- her dreams from her reality.

A face floated above her fallen form; her heart leaped to her throat when she saw black, _black_ eyes staring down at her.

"-hey, hey! Calm, _pequeňa bruja,_ you need to breath. Can you do that for me, _querida?"_ Black eyes morphed back into the brilliant teal-sea green eyes that she was accustomed to seeing on her father's face.

Dimly, she realized that she was momentarily projecting her dream; that she _was_ in a semi-lucid state.

"Papa," She struggled to say, gasping between her breaths. _She_ _needed to breath._

"I'm here, _mi hija,_ I'm here."

She rolled on her side, her fathers strong hands holding her close to him, grounding her and calming her.

She _couldn't_ keep doing this.

So, she looked up into her father's face; the face that she and Atticus resembled so much.

 _"I_ _ **need**_ _to tell you something but I don't know how."_ Panicked tears filled her eyes, not falling but making her eyes shine; emphasizing the anguish in them.

His eyes search her face, expression grim but calm; reassuring.

 _"Then_ _ **show**_ _me."_ He responded, reverting to Spanish, the way she unconsciously had, before continuing:

 _"Show me everything, pequeňa bruja."_

* * *

Ignacio Asturias arrived at his house in Mystic Falls a little after five-thirty early in the morning.

The sun peaked over the horizon, turning the midnight blue of the sky into a lightened pale blue. A chilly breeze greeted his presence and he could see the entire mass of his garden covered in pure white snow.

From what Sheila had informed him, his children had insisted upon returning home that night so as to greet him in the morning. Sheila had informed him that she had enlisted Jenna Sommers' (the 19-year old sister of Miranda Gilbert who had returned to Mystic Falls from Whitmore College for the holidays) help to babysit them.

Ignacio noted, as he entered his house, that it was decorated with the finery he had expected; no doubt the work of maids and butlers employed to watch over the residence.

His magic swept outwards to check on the inhabitants of the house; the working staff had left for the holidays so there were only three others occupying the mansion, besides himself, that is.

He felt Jenna Sommers sleeping deeply in one of the spare rooms, her breathing heavy and occasional soft snores escaping her mouth.

Atticus, too, was sleeping peacefully, his breathing even and magic curled around him protectively.

It was Zatanna who worried him, her breathing pattern was erratic and she constantly tossed and turned.

Frowning, Ignacio turned towards her room, taking long strides to reach there. His magic expanded, attempting to surround his daughter in a calming manner but her own magic was attacking in distress; a response to her current sentiments.

He entered the room to hear his daughter mutter under her breath, pleading in low moans, "No, _please."_

"Zatanna," He called, walking over his daughter muttering a silencing spell around the room, because she _needed_ to calm down. The glass of her ceiling high sliding windows (that led to a balcony) had spider cracks crawling all over them, the items surrounding her bed floating in the air precariously; they were reacting to her volatile magic.

"Zatanna, _querida,_ wake up." He spoke loudly, his hand reaching forward to shake her awake but there was no need; she shot up with a yell, tumbling down the side of her bed, tangled in her sheets, her magic returning inwards to comfort her; resulting in the furniture and other floating objects to fall back down.

Ignacio walked around the bed, watching in alarm as his daughter gasped for breath, she was trembling and her eyes stared up at the ceiling in horrified panic.

"Zatanna," Her eyes caught his and she struggled, trying to breathe. "Its me, hey, hey! Calm, _pequeňa bruja,_ you need to breath. Can you do that for me, _querida?"_

She stared at him; clarity and recognition lighting her eyes. Her struggles ceased but she continued taking deep shuddering, gasping breaths.

"Papa," She said in pathetic sort of whine, barely managing to speak, but starting to breathe more evenly.

"I'm here, _mi hija,_ I'm here." He soothed, running his fingers through her sweat-laced locks, before rubbing his hand on her back in slow yet encouraging circles.

She turned, so she was on her side and facing him. She stared up at him with a sheen of tears gleaming in her eyes and looked as if she had come to a sound conclusion.

 _"I_ _ **need**_ _to tell you something but I don't know how."_ She implored in a hoarse tone of voice, her eyes much too wide and her accent coming through much thicker now that she was speaking in Spanish.

He inspected the desperation lining her expression, the panic, the residual fear but most of all he saw wary tiredness.

This was what had been tormenting her to quite some time now; something she hadn't chosen to reveal till now, that is.

As her father, he had noticed her odd behaviour; the dark circles that weren't meant to be present on such a young face, a weary countenance that made him want to scoop her up into a smothering hug and shower her with over-bearing affections.

This was _his child._ As if, he would stop her from sharing what had been on her mind for a while now.

 _"Then_ _ **show**_ _me."_ He responded, his magic a calm and steady force around them, words spoken in Spanish, before continuing:

 _"Show me everything, pequeňa bruja."_

 _"How?"_ And she looked so desperate, so helpless.

He smiled, _"We are connected, you and I, through an Asturias bond; a bond of father and daughter. You merely need to let your magic drop its defenses and open your mind, then I shall see only what you show me."_

She still looked unsure, but he felt her magic slowly and unconsciously drop its guard, and as her hesitancy continued, he said;

 _"What if I showed you something first?"_ He mused out loud, thinking a memory of her mother might suffice.

Zatanna's eyes sparked with interest and this time her hesitance was attributed to the fact that she was unsure whether she should voice out her thoughts or not.

Curious, Ignacio pushed through her magic and focused on the thought she was unconsciously projecting to him.

 _I wonder if papa would let me see what he did to_ _ **that woman.**_

And Ignacio paused contemplatively; his daughter's words resounding in his mind. His daughter's voice had an immaculate and lilting quality to it; her spoken English, much like himself and her brother's, was Spanish accented (a trait Ignacio was sure would never leave them) but her talking style; that is her vocabulary and slangs were distinctly British.

She wanted to know what he did to Abby Bennett and if she could handle watching it, and somehow looking at her face he was assured she could, then who was he to stop her?

 _"I can, pequeňa seňorita,"_ He said, startling her. _"All you need to do is watch."_

He softly guided her magic through his own magical barricades, allowing it to connect their minds.

And he showed her.

* * *

 _Abby Bennett took one good look at him and paled._

 _A flighty little thing, she was. Proven by the fact that she immediately attempted to escape once she found herself in his presence._

 _"Tsk, I expected nothing more from a pathetic wench such as yourself, Seňora Bennett." He spoke in a faux cheerful voice but his eyes were deadly as the Bennett witch was pinned to the wall by his sheer magical force. "I would like to keep this visit as short as possible, so lets take a walk, shall we?"_

 _"Please, you need to understand! I had no other choice-" She attempted to plead but he waved a hand and her voice chocked away until silence remained._

 _"Cease your unneeded pleas, I have no interest in listening to them. You will_ _ **beg**_ _only when I want you to." He commented pleasantly, waving a hand so that the shadows of the room rose, surrounding them before falling on top of them, moulding over them._

 _A sudden feeling of displacement._

 _The shadows receded._

 _And they were in the crypt Mikael lay desiccated in._

 _"So desperate you were to rid of him," He crooned softly. "That you even lost sight of blood-ties and family. Tut, tut, Shame on you, Abby Bennett."_

 _She quivered from where she stood still, her eyes much too wide._

 _"Do you know what I'm going to do you?" He started conversationally, leaning against the against the stone coffin within which Mikael lay. Abby shook her head, a realization dawning over her features, a realization that she should never have done what she did, that her actions put her against the Asturias; that she had decided her own doom._

 _"First, I'm going to bind you're spirit to Mikael's physical body," He informed her, a mockingly reassuring look passing his face when he saw her panic, "Oh no, don't worry, I'm not going to_ _ **link**_ _you, What this binding will do is ensure that you will not need food or water to survive; it's a sustainability binding. Killing you will not kill Mikael nor will it kill you, should Mikael die or awaken. In fact, the Original will feel nothing at all about what you would be experiencing. And you're physical need of sustenance in the form of drinkables and eatables will only return should the Original awaken or die."_

 _She looked confused, of course she was, what a dull creature._

 _"Then," He continued, wanting to be done with it. Staring at his wife's murderer made his blood roar in rage. "Then I'm going to make your pain-receptive brain cells...a little more sensitive," He gave her a ruthless smirk, standing up straight and walking towards Abby's still form (his magic had rooted her in place) and gently grasped her chin, making her stare into his luminous eyes. "I will ensure that there is a constant stream of images your mind comes up with -images that are horrendous, bloody torture; creative methods of pain and your pain-receptors will react ten-fold of what they normally would. And do you know the best part?" He smiled at the tears that filled her eyes, as fear became the only emotion she was capable of feeling. "The best part is;_ _ **its all in your head."**_

 _She was crying now, attempting to speak but failing._

 _He had made a horrifying promise._

 _And he had kept it._

 _._

 _._

 _._

 _He glanced back at the female body lying comfortably on a stone slab, nothing in immediate sight restricted her movements; but she still couldn't move, his magic having formed invisible binds._

 _She was staring at the ceiling, her mouth open in a silent scream; incapable of producing any sound, because his magic had deemed it so._

 _"This is the state you shall remain in for the remainder of your pitiful life; unmoving, unable to make a sound and in utter agony yet not a single physical mark on you, you require no food and no water...and when you die; Death shall await you." He tilted his head to the side; his magic forming the final layer of a protective covering around the crypt; so that no one but he and his kin could access it. "Fitting you should remain in the presence of the Original you were so anxious to rid yourself of...Farewell, Abby Bennett, you will not be missed."_

 _And he left without a single glance backward; the presence of his magic remained swirling around and within the crypt; to make sure all his magical conditions remained._

* * *

His daughter stared at him with renewed appreciation and admiration.

He was interested to note that there was no disgust or disturbed emotions to be seen.

 _"Now, I think it's your turn to show me, pequeňa seňorita."_

She swallowed; nervousness dancing over her features, before he could _see_ her steel her nerves and look straight into his eyes with an identical set of his own.

And show him, she did.

* * *

Zatanna stared at his face, trying to determine his thoughts.

Her heart beat rapidly and loudly; so loud that she was surprised her father couldn't hear it.

His face was utterly blank and indistinguishable but his eyes _were a roaring tidal wave;_ the sea-green had suddenly become more dominant than the teal-green; it was like watching the untamable ocean, wild and dangerous, waves crashing upon each other.

Zatanna shivered.

She had shown him _everything._ Leaving nothing out, he needed to know and she needed to tell him.

All she could do was wait for his reaction.

His lips parted and he whispered a single word.

 _"Amazing."_

 _._

 _._

 _._

Okay, what in the bloody fuck?

What kind of a reaction was that? Who said 'amazing' after finding out your daughter was in reality a mentally 41-year old woman (if you counted her age in this life as well).

Perhaps he saw her deadpanned, disbelieving expression for he let his lips stretch into a smile.

 _"Don't you see, mi hija,"_ Her heart soared at the endearment, the fact he called her his daughter quelled the worries that ran rampant within her. _"You are a Miracle. A gift of Death-a gift_ _ **from**_ _Death."_

Now, she was simply bewildered.

 _"Your existence in this world is proof to the fact Death_ _ **wanted**_ _you,_ _ **loved and respected**_ _you before you were born as an Asturias."_ He explained, the concentrated amazement on his face becoming more prominent by each word that escaped his mouth.

 _"This was a fictional world. How could he- how could anyone have the power to bring me to a fictional world. And why?"_ She sounded slightly hysterical, even to herself.

Her father smiled patiently. _"There are many planes of existence; sweetheart. Ever heard of the multiverse theory?"_ He asked rhetorically. _"Sometimes, mortals who are more sensitive to it, dream or pluck thoughts of a reality they believe to be fictitious and a product of their mind, but is in reality them attuning to different realities. But do you know the one constant these realities have? Death. It is everywhere and yet nowhere...Perhaps a more apt description of Death would be to know it's true name."_ He paused in his musings and Zatanna perked up in interest -Death had another name? _"How are your studies going?"_

She _stared_ at him.

What?

 _"What?"_ She voiced out loud, because they were talking about Death and where _exactly_ did her studies come in?

 _"Your history, specifically."_ He looked expectant for an answer.

 _"Er...right. I'm quite good at history, if I do say so myself."_ She admitted, still looking at her father searchingly, because where exactly was he going with this?

 _"Your Greek mythology?"_

 _"Papa, please don't insult my intelligence, I'm an adult woman in the body of a child."_ She responded rather dryly.

His smile grew wider. _"And according to the Greeks, mi hija, who existed first and began everything."_

 _"Khaos. But why are you aski-"_ She cut herself off as the implications set in; her eyes widened and her mouth fell open.

 _"Yes, mi hija."_ Her father looked pleased. _"And is death not a form of chaos?"_

 _"Death_ _ **is**_ _Khaos."_ She uttered.

 _"An existence present before time. An entity which is everything yet nothing, present in a void between world's and universes."_ Her father ran his fingers through her hair. _"It is known as Death, here, who knows what other names it is known by?"_

Her mind whirled with this new tsunami of information; her curiosity lapped it up like a starving dog. Khaos. In this plane of existence, Khaos was present in the form of Death. How utterly intriguing and even more gratifying it was to know that such an entity had claimed them as belonging to it.

 _"Why me?"_ She asked, because why indeed? What had she done that had caught Death's-Khaos' attention?

 _"Who knows mi hija?"_ He answered, pausing only to get back on his feet and lifting her up in his arms. _"Some questions are better left unanswered."_

He plopped down on her bed, arranging the covers so that both of them were under it and surrounded by its warmth.

 _"Thank you, papa."_ She said, because this situation could have gone in many different directions had she told it to anyone other than Ignacio Asturias.

 _"You are still my daughter, my gift from Death."_

And try as she may, she couldn't stop her lips from twisting into a smile.

 _"I want to tell Atticus too."_ She said after a contemplative pause.

She could hear her father hum; the sound louder because of her head placed on his chest.

 _"After we wake up in a few hours. Better not to show him all your memories."_

 _"Obviously, Papa."_

A pause.

 _"Also, you need therapy."_

She snorted and turned her face so it was buried in his chest all the while muffling her chortles.

 _"I'm serious, pequeňa bruja, and I've decided I'll be your therapist."_

Zatanna almost fell off the bed in her tear-filled laughter, feeling lighter than she had in years.

* * *

 ** _24th December, 1998; Bennett Household, Mystic Falls; Virginia, United States of America._**

Atticus stuck close to her ever since her father had taken him aside the previous evening and explained that she was a reborn soul but also 'a gift from Death'.

And Zatanna realised, that he was reassuring her in his own way, that he didn't care she was reborn because she was still his sister. It filled her with overwhelming fondness for her eight-year old brother.

His small gestures spoke volumes to her.

At the moment, the family of three were attending a Christmas Eve dinner hosted by Sheila Bennett that particular year.

The siblings found themselves in the back yard with all the other children making snowmen and having snow ball fights; Mason Lockwood was watching over them, Jenna Sommers at his side, both deeply engrossed in light-hearted conversations.

"Zatanna, look!" Elena called, pointing at her snowman, her brown doe-like eyes gleaming hopefully.

Zatanna gave her a polite yet disinterested smile. "That's nice," She commented vaguely, her eyes following Bonnie and Tyler who had decided to make snow angels.

Elena grew quiet, seemingly unaware of the nudges Caroline and Matt were giving her.

"I'm sorry," She said so quietly that Zatanna barely managed to hear her.

Snapping her head in Elena's direction, she watched as tears welled up in the six-year old brunette's eyes, his lip jutted out in an attempt to control herself.

"What?" Zatanna blurted out, feeling and looking confused. Why exactly was she apologising?

"I'm sorry if I made any mistake." Elena whispered, rubbing at the tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry you don't like me, I try really hard. I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

And Zatanna was stumped.

She had always disliked Elena's role and character in the show. She hid her selfishness behind a holier-than-thou attitude and had a pathetic black and white view of the world. She always wanted people to make her the first priority, to save her without doing anything about it herself, unless of course she wanted to make a show of 'sacrificing herself for her loved ones'.

But she wasn't like that now, was she?

Elena's only flaw, currently as a six-year old, was that she had pleasing personality; she had this need to please everyone and meet their expectations.

Zatanna cursed herself, she was ignoring-projecting her dislike for who Elena would be as an adult to her as a child.

A child who was still innocent.

She had always prided herself in being rational and level-headed and capable of seeing both aspects of a situation but here she was treating a _child_ unfairly.

Zatanna felt guilty.

Granted with the way things were going, Elena probably would turn out the same way as she was in the show unless-

-unless Zatanna _changed_ it.

And she could, couldn't she?

She could change Elena Gilbert. Mould her entire personality.

With this dawning realization and guilt for her unfair actions; knowing she was at fault, Zatanna bowed her head; a complete display of humble regret.

"No, you needn't apologize, it was my mistake." She spoke with a soft smile which she, uncharacteristically, aimed at Elena, who's breath hitched in shock. "I apologize, _Seňorita Gilbert,_ I treated you unfairly."

Elena waved away her apology and with a hopeful smile, asked if she would be interested in making a snowman with her.

Zatanna accepted.

Because she could change the entire course of the show if Elena Gilbert had a different personality. An occurrence, Zatanna would ensure happened.

And why not?

Elena Gilbert had the potential to be a bad-ass individual; only if she had the proper guidance.

Guidance she was freely given in the form of Zatanna Bennett-Asturias.

Her magic curled within her in anticipation.

* * *

 **Additional Information:** 'Khaos' is the Greek spelling of 'Chaos'.

Regarding the noble title given to Ignacio Asturias; the title itself is real i.e 'Seňor of Lazcano; Lord of Lazcano' is a real title but it's usage in this story is entirely fictional. As far as I'm aware, in real life this title belongs to the Ducal House of el Infantado.

 **Edit:** Credits to the guest for clarifying who the title of Lazcano belongs to in real life.

Date of Births:

Ignacio Asturias: 12th May, 1968.

Pauline Bennett: 1st January, 1969.

Atticus Bennett-Asturias: 7th August, 1990.

Zatanna Bennett-Asturias: 31st October, 1992.

All other birthdays of canon characters are as have been listed according to Wikia, with the only exception being those who's birthdays have not been given, of which I shall take liberty of giving them specific dates of birth myself.

* * *

 **A/N:** This monster was a bitch to write. No joke. Perhaps the longest chapter I have written yet? Yes.

Also, I give you Abby's fate. And Zatanna's big reveal. Yay. And my plans about Elena. Double yay.

Anyways hope you enjoyed, cause I'm certainly looking forward for your reactions.

Again, thank you for all the views, favorites, follows and reviews.

I'd like to thank; **AlianaGabriellaWinchester17, Kristina'sMyName, beamer witte** **,** **Believer91, RebeliousOne, marlastiano, NellieWolf123, PrincessMagic, Farrah Veelacov, keikei313, bbb671, NicoleP1928 and LoserTrash** for leaving your reviews, believe me when I say that's where I found the motivation to write this chapter.

I'd like to further thank **Guusjecullen** and **LillithiaMikaelson** for adding this story in their communities; **'Self-Inserts, Original Characters and Klaroline'** and **'C'est la vie'** respectively.

Also, before I go, spoiler for next chapter; Enzo comes in XD.

Like/Favorite and Review/Comment, please. I respond to all reviews via PM.

* * *

 **Translations:**

 ** _Seňora Lockwood:_** _Madam/Mrs. Lockwood._

 _ **Hijos míos:**_ _My children._

 _ **Pequeňa seňorita:**_ _Little Miss._

 _ **Hermano:**_ _Brother_

 _ **Mi hija:**_ _My daughter._

 _ **Pequeňa bruja:**_ _Little witch._

 _ **Querida:**_ _Dearest/Dear one._

 _ **Seňora Bennett:**_ _Madam/Mrs. Bennett._

 _ **Seňorita Gilbert:**_ _Miss Gilbert._

 **Note:** All translations were taken with the help of Google. If there are any mistakes, I would like to apologize as I do not know how to speak the language.

 **Edit:** Corrections to translations made with the kind and welcomed help of **Alessandra12,** I am extremely and genuinely grateful for her help.

* * *

 _"Mors nobis favet; Death favors us."_

 _ **-The Asturias Family Motto-**_

* * *

 **Disclaimer** : This is a work of fanfiction; I do not claim any ownership over any characters, situations or anything of relation from the TVD world. I do, however, own the Asturias Family, anything related to them, any other Original-Character introduced and the plot of this particular story.


	7. Chapter V:

**Warnings:** Language, PTSD, Death, Violence, Morbid jokes and Dark humor that might offend others e.g. jokes on contemplation of suicide, these are just used to describe the rather morbid sense of humor the character/s may have and are in no means used to offend anyone or make light of the serious topics that may be mentioned. For any sensitive topic used in a joke, I apologize in advance and hope you keep in mind I meant no offense.

 **Note:** The dialogues in Italic show that the speakers are either a form of flashbacks or communicating in a different language, in this case spanish.

* * *

 **Calling: Definition: _(Noun) A strong urge towards a particular way of life or career; a vocation._**

 ** _'You would not have called to me unless I had been calling to you.'_**

 **-Aslan; The Silver Chair, Chronicles of Narnia; Clive Staples Lewis-**

 ** _'~ And it seems like it's calling out to me, So come find me, And let me know, What's beyond that line, Will I cross that line?~'_**

 **-How far I'll go; Auli'i Cravalho-**

* * *

 **Chapter V:**

 ** _21st May, 2003; Bennett Household, Mystic Falls; Virginia; United States of America._**

The door to Bonnie's room slammed open.

"What did the pirate say on his 80th birthday?" Elena asked the inhabitants of the room, her tone uncharacteristically serious.

"What?" Atticus asked, not questioning the answer to her inquiring statement but confused as to what exactly she had asked.

"Aye matey." She replied.

Elena stared at them for another moment before throwing her head back and dissolving into a manic fit of laughter. She wiped an invisible tear from her eye before leaning heavily against the door, slamming her hand against it. Her entire body shook as she gasped in-between her chortles.

After several moments of wheezing, she gasped, "Get it? Aye matey, _I'm eighty!_ Oh god, I'm hilarious." She started clapping her hands together, like a seal performing in a circus, not quite breathing and a disturbingly wide grin on her face.

Zatanna _stared_ at her before turning to an equally mystified Atticus -who simply looked amazed at Elena's reaction- and said in a solemn tone of voice:

"I've created a monster."

Atticus turned his gaze towards her, amusement filling his features. "You sow what you seed, _querida hermana."_ He said unsympathetically.

"Oh my _god,_ Elena!" Caroline tossed a pillow at the brunette's face, looking utterly done.

"Yeah, Gilbert, you're not as funny as you think you are." Tyler scowled from his place next to Atticus.

"Excuse _you_ , jerk, my hilarity knows no bounds, thank you very much. Right, Bonnie?" Elena sniffed primly, smoothing out her Daffy Duck t-shirt, and straightening her Bugs Bunny headband (it was an interesting accessory, the long ears of the headband half falling over the brunette's face); Zatanna regretted the day she ever challenged Elena that she couldn't love both of the Looney Tune characters in the exact same amounts, the doppelgänger was out to prove her wrong.

Bonnie stared up at Elena looking torn between wanting to be amused at her actions or just outright ignoring her.

"I have no comments." Bonnie instead replied pleasantly, returning her attention to braiding Zatanna's hair.

Elena huffed, tossing her Bugs Bunny rucksack towards Matt -the poor child was actually attempting to do what they had all gathered for; solve his mathematics homework- who gasped as it hit him straight in the stomach. The doppelgänger then threw herself in Zatanna's lap.

"Zee and Ace think I'm funny, right?" She widened her eyes comically.

"Not in the least," Zatanna deadpanned.

"Nope," Atticus responded pleasantly.

"Ugh, none of you appreciate the beauty of my jokes."

"That's because there is no 'beauty' to your jokes. They're stupid." Caroline air-quoted beauty and lay back down on Bonnie's bed.

"I hate you all." Elena announced making herself comfortable; her head lay in Zatanna's lap and her legs had been thrown over Atticus'.

Tyler snorted before turning his attention back to Matt, both discussing something or other about American football.

Zatanna felt equal parts accomplished and exasperated at seeing Elena Gilbert. Staring down in those doe-brown eyes, Zatanna did not see exaggerated innocence that hid sly, selfish glints; All the Spaniard saw was lighthearted-mischief and cheerful warmth.

It made her feel like she actually did good.

For all her talks about fucking with the timeline, Zatanna's first course of action into actually attempting to do exactly that was slowly but surely influencing Elena Gilbert's personality. She had initially assumed that it would be rather hard to do but Zatanna soon realized that Elena was a _child_ and her character was malleable. That, since she was in the age where her personality was developing, it would be astoundingly easy to influence the young girl.

Zatanna had started simple; spend time with the girl and understand her current deposition. Which she discovered was a 'turning into a goody-two shoes with a strict black and white view and an unintentional craving for attention'.

Upon discovering said traits, Zatanna would concede, she wondered how the _hell_ would she influence Elena? And as mentioned above, it turned out to be ridiculously easy.

Seriously.

It was _so_ pathetically easy that it was amusing.

Zatanna only had to use small gestures, little conversations that Elena seemed to absorb with avid attention. It was amusing to discover that the brunette seemed to idolize her (Atticus would not stop laughing his bloody arse off when he discovered that particular piece of information).

She had steadily gotten rid of Elena's pleasing and demure demeanor by avidly seeking out the doppelgänger and making her participate in all the mischief and pranks the Asturias siblings concocted; it helped that Elena wanted to remain in her good graces and went along with it; a nervous, worried smile painted on her face, but slowly that smile had faded away into amused giggles as Elena began genuinely enjoying their playful schemes. It was further a plus point that none of the adults particularly scolded them, in fact, that would laugh along and that relaxed Elena in ways unimaginable; showed her that it was okay to have fun, that she wouldn't get into trouble (Of course, Zatanna was also pleasantly surprised when she found that Elena had started playing pranks of her own and while the Asturias witch would deny it, Atticus was correct in his assumption that Zatanna felt like a proud mummy bear).

Furthermore, the young witch had discovered that Elena had a challenging streak. Tell her she can't do something and she would do it (to be honest, that explained a lot). Which brought her to Elena's obsession with Daffy Duck and Bugs Bunny. One dreaded conversation where Zatanna had accidentally commented on how Elena couldn't possibly love each of them with the same fervor...well, the rebelling and 'watch me' expression painted across the doppelgänger's face spoke for itself (and led to a possibly unhealthy obsession with the two looney tune characters).

Of course, let's not forget Elena developing a love for reading (brought on by the fact that Zatanna and Atticus, mostly always had their noses in one book or another in their free time); ironically and hilariously, Elena's preferred reading materials were non-fictional and factual (because Zatanna always thought Elena was a sucker for romance, incidentally, she was pleased to be proven wrong).

Her love of reading have often led Elena to the study room in the Asturias manor; because it -while incomparable to the actual library possessed by the noble family back in Spain- was filled to the brim with all kinds of reading materials.

It was coincidentally here, that Elena stumbled upon a ridiculous joke book that had been gifted to her father once and remained untouched ever since. For some reason, Elena Gilbert, fell in _love_ with it.

She recalled her father giving the doppelgänger a bemused look when she begged him to let her keep it (while also sending Zatanna a knowing and a disbelieving expression that portrayed her attempts at changing Elena might be successful but she would soon lament over what would follow as a result of the doppelgänger's sudden interest in those _horrible_ jokes...he was right, of course).

It was hilarious at the time, but Zatanna eventually regretted laughing at her father because soon enough, Zatanna found herself and the rest of the future Scooby gang being Elena's test subjects and unwilling audiences (Atticus didn't seem too bothered by the horrible jokes, only amused and fascinated by Elena's reactions).

"Yo, Zee?" Elena snapped her fingers in front of Zatanna's face. "You still with us?"

And because the brunette raised her brows mockingly, a cheeky smile playing on her face, Zatanna did the one thing Elena couldn't stand.

She pinched the doppelgänger's cheeks.

"Ugh, no! Let gwo, you mwonster." Elena struggled to speak, her hands grabbing Zatanna's trying to pull them away.

"You deserved it," Tyler muttered scowling over at Elena, his eyes widening when she aimed a kick at him. "Did you-? Did you just try to _kick_ me? What the hell, Gilbert?" The mayor's son sounded completely flabbergasted.

"You're annoying, shut up." Elena glowered, rubbing at her red and abused cheeks, her eyes throwing daggers at a smiling Zatanna, whose entire countenance was that of a person who held nothing but a sunny deposition.

Tyler sputtered, " _I'm_ annoying? Take a good look at yourself, buddy."

"I do," Elena replied promptly, her brow quirking. "Every single day, I just stare at myself in the mirror and I'm like, 'Jeez, Elena, there has never been and never will be anyone as good-looking as you.' I mean have you seen this face? It is one of a kind and utterly unique."

Zatanna couldn't help it, she really couldn't. But hearing her say that, while being completely aware of the fact that Elena was a doppelgänger; a mirror image of _three_ other women...well that did it.

So, exchanging a quick look with her brother, who looked just as amused as her, both dissolved in fits of snorts and giggles.

"Wow…come on guys, it wasn't that funny." Elena's voice oozed offense, typically, that only fed their laughter. "Yup, feeling the love, right in my heart."

Bonnie rolled her eyes while getting up from her position behind Zatanna, having finished braiding her hair, and proceeded to push Elena towards Tyler (both children flailing their arms as they fell into a tangle of limbs and shouts). The young girl then turned towards her cousins, both of whom lay flat on the carpeted ground heaving as to regain their breath.

"Come on, we have to get ready." The Bennett witch said.

"For what, _Seňorita Bonita?_ " Atticus asked, lifting himself up, supported by his elbows.

Bonnie opened her mouth to answer them, before faltering. She stared at them with confusion, "I don't know, we just have to get ready." She shrugged, her hazel-green eyes staring at them in a matter-of-fact way.

"And that made no sense whatsoever, you know that, right?" Caroline looked unimpressed, her sunny gold locks swinging over her shoulders as she sat up on the bed.

"Hate to admit it, but she's right." Matt shrugged, ignoring the scowl Caroline sent his way.

Bonnie's brows furrowed, "Come _on!_ I just know we have to get ready."

Atticus looked at the young Bennett witch with realization dawning over his features, he turned towards his sister, who shared his suspicions, if the knowing look on her face was anything to go by.

As if to prove them right, the door to Bonnie's room opened with Sheila poking her head inside, she gave the children an amused smile when she noticed all of them watching her like cats caught in the headlights.

"I'm sorry for disturbing you kids, while you were _obviously_ studying," Here she sent them a look, which caused most of them to laugh sheepishly (Except Zatanna, Atticus and Matt; Zatanna and Atticus because they didn't go to school and had already finished their assignments –given by their various tutors- for the weekend and Matt because he was actually doing his homework).

"Sorry, Miss Sheila," Caroline said, her tone suddenly all cute and adorable, her eyes much too wide with faux innocence. "We won't do it again."

Sheila's lips quirked up into a smirk, "Oh, honey, that's not gonna work on me. I _know_ you won't do it again."

Caroline suddenly looked ashamed at being caught out and nodded meekly, sending a momentary scowl a sniggering Tyler and Elena's way.

"Now, I came to ask, seeing as its Friday, would any of you like to come with me to Whitmore? I have some work to do there and we'll be back by tonight."

Zatanna being naturally curious about her Grand-Aunt's working place and wanting to see the college for herself, instantly agreed. Her brother (predictably) gave his consent too, and seeing as they were both going, Elena, Tyler and Bonnie easily joined in too. Caroline, though, excused herself, politely stating that she was spending the evening with her family. Matt, too, said he couldn't go, as he was going to try and spend some time with his mother and sister (that, honestly, angered the Asturias witch, because what 10-year old needed to act responsible, needed to look so cautiously hopeful at the idea that maybe he could spend some time with his mother; Kelly Donovan was an extremely horrible excuse of a mother, every time Zatanna had seen her, she had always looked stuck in her own world, not realizing she had two children who craved her attention, following around like lost pups -it was things like this, that made her glad she had been blessed with two loving parents- and she also made a mental note to keep an eye on Matt; he was a _good_ kid).

"Well, go home, grab what you need, get ready and be back here in a hour. We need to leave by two, okay?" Sheila informed the children receiving nods in return.

Zatanna however was concentrating on two of her Grand-Aunt's words; _Get ready._ The same two words Bonnie had been repeating, as if she had known that they were going to go somewhere. Zatanna knew it was Bonnie's magical traits that allowed her to do simple predictions; it was so because the ability to manipulate magic led to Wiccan's holding more awareness of the surroundings i.e holding the ability to sense shifts in behaviors and emotions, it was possible Bonnie had sensed her grandmothers intentions before the woman had arrived in the room.

As such, while Zatanna had wanted to involve Bonnie in her magical teachings, she also respected her Grand-Aunt who had wanted to wait till Bonnie was twelve (and her magical traits manifested and strengthened) before teaching her anything. That, however, didn't mean that Zatanna could never tell Bonnie about her own magical heritage (In fact, Zatanna should probably tell all of the eventual members of the future Scooby gang, while they were children and believed in such things much easily. Furthermore, telling them would prove advantageous as that way Zatanna could prepare them for future events as well).

Atticus nudged her, drawing her attention away from her thoughts, "Come now, _querida hermana,_ we need to get ready," After saying that, the twelve-year old glanced in Bonnie's direction before turning back towards his sister and smiling softly.

Zatanna grinned at her brother before following him out of Bonnie's room; she swore up and down, he was the most amazing person ever –second to her father, in her humble opinion- (this had nothing to do with the fact he was very accepting of her true nature, and still easily and flawlessly fulfilled his role as her older brother –according to him, she was _still_ younger than him, no matter how older she might be mentally-, it also had nothing to do with the fact he was generally the _best_ sibling ever…no, of course not, it had nothing to do with either of those facts).

"You have a very creepy smile on your face." Elena commented from where she stood by the front door of the Bennett house.

"What she said," Tyler nodded his head towards the doppelgänger.

"Well, she can't help it," Atticus commented, his voice was pure sarcasm, and his eyes; deep and dark, glinted with mischief, "She's an old woman at heart, maybe a witch in disguise…?"

There was a pause for three long seconds.

Zatanna cracked up.

Oh god. That was beautiful.

It was nothing _but_ beautiful, those words had been begging to be said out loud. And it was executed and delivered magnificently.

Now _that_ was hilarious. As opposed to a certain 10-year old's horrifying jokes.

"Zee, you've lost it," Caroline was nothing but blunt.

"Did she ever even have _it_?" Matt retorted, looking at the cackling female Spaniard with genuine concern.

"I don't get it," Bonnie's nose scrunched up, "Ace, why is she laughing?" The Bennett witch asked Atticus.

"Zee's weird, Bonnie. Get over it." Tyler rolled his eyes.

Atticus, being the ever-supportive brother, had his flailing sister in his arms, making sure she was upright at she leaned against him heavily. He offered the rest of them an innocent, saccharine smile, "It seems senility is a going to be a fairly smooth transition for my _hermana_."

"Stop!" Zatanna gasped, because that just made her laugh harder.

At the inquisitive and borderline disbelieving expression the young Spanish Warlock received, he further elaborated, his tone of voice nothing less of polite,

"It's an inside joke," He informed them, now effortlessly dragging his sister away and out of the house, towards the sleek black car and the chauffeur that awaited for them.

Inside joke, her bloody arse.

* * *

Zatanna stared at the campus building with disinterested eyes; it was large and had a cheerful ambience about it (oh, the cold, _cold_ irony) but it wasn't very impressive.

In her last life, she had been admitted into the 'The Royal Military Academy Sandhurst' back in the UK, right after passing three of her A-levels (English Language, Ancient History and Geography). Somehow, remembering the vast and intimidating grounds of Sandhurst, the impressive building itself; Whitmore College seemed to just pale in comparison, and Zatanna decided, then and there, there was no way on earth she would attend this college.

University was a serious topic for her, and she had decided that wherever she would go, it wouldn't be in the USA. Not that there was anything wrong with the universities here, she reasoned as she caught a glimpse of the sun that was steadily beginning its journey to the west. For her though, Spain had always been her _home._ Spain and the UK. And nothing could ever compare to the two lands; both places where she was born, places with which her roots lied.

Places she wanted to return to.

"Woah, this is so cool!" Bonnie's voice was laced in excitement as her hazel-green eyes danced from one spot to another, simply taking in all the sights.

Sheila's lips twitched up into a smile. "I'm glad you think so. Now, come, I have to go to my office."

"What do you teach, Miss Sheila?" Tyler asked, his voice, uncharacteristically polite.

"Occult studies." The old woman responded, leading the five of them towards the main and most obvious building present.

Tyler frowned as he mouthed the words to himself.

"Occult studies, Mystical or Supernatural studies." Elena explained helpfully, as she stuck close to the Asturias siblings.

"Oh," Tyler said in response, "That's kinda cool."

Sheila chuckled, "That's what you think now, wait till you're older, you'll probably think I'm crazy."

"We'll never think you're crazy, _tía abuela."_ Atticus spoke, his voice solemn yet the cheeky smile on his face gave him away.

Sheila gave him a knowing (and amused) glance. "Of course, _you_ wouldn't."

"I don't get it." Bonnie looked back at them, her eyes glinting confused.

Her bright eyes warmed Zatanna, and the sudden need to smother the adorable and younger Bennett witch (not that Sheila wasn't adorable) in a heartfelt and comforting hug overcame her.

"Hey, hey, Miss Sheila?" Tyler asked, suddenly looking like the adorable puppy that he was. Dark eyes wide and expression; eagerly childish.

"Yes, Tyler?"

"Is there any chance I could be a vampire?" He gushed suddenly, "Like those really cool ones, you know like Spike from Buffy."

And for the third time that day (this time Atticus joining in), Zatanna dissolved into laughter.

A werewolf wanting to be a vampire.

And not just any werewolf; Tyler bloody Lockwood.

Oh _Lord._

Oh _dear_ lord.

What was wrong with the world today?

Sheila stared at the two snorting siblings, her eyes showing fond exasperation. "Really?" She shot at them before turning to Tyler. "And why on earth would you want to be a vampire?"

Tyler frowned. "Cause, they're cool. Duh."

"Oh yes, _duh_. Silly old me," Sheila muttered to herself opening the door to her office, a name plate reading 'Sheila Bennett' hung by the door.

Seeing the inside of her room, however, had the two magical siblings tensing; there was a tall, lean man relaxed on the chair behind the brown oak desk, looking mildly annoyed as if he had been waiting for quite some time. He was doing nothing that would seem even remotely threatening, his hands were clasped together, fingers lacing each other and lay harmlessly on the desk; a deliberate move, she could tell, one to show them his appendages in plain sight.

And while he portrayed nothing but passiveness and complaisance, Zatanna could tell he was _anything_ but.

That was perhaps what had her reacting; her hand reached forward so that she could pull Bonnie behind her, but her brother's warm palm around her wrist stopped her.

She looked towards him and quirked a brow at the peculiar expression on his face, he was staring at the rest of their company as if he wasn't quite sure what to make of it and Zatanna was quick to follow his gaze.

And she noticed what she hadn't before.

They were unmoving.

Everyone; Sheila, Bonnie, Elena and Tyler.

Frozen stiff; limbs motionless and still.

It was an interesting scene, Sheila was looking over her shoulder, her mouth opened to say something but no words escaped. Elena had one foot of the ground, hovering mid-step in the air. Tyler was reaching forward to push the door open to the side. Bonnie was standing on her tip-toes, her hair suspended in the air, a result of her gleaming locks bouncing with her every step.

But it was the lack of sounds and movements from the entire surroundings that mostly unnerved Zatanna.

It was as if time had stopped.

And Zatanna was curious and intrigued to notice that she might not be that far from the truth.

"Nae, time hasn't quite stopped, young one." The man lounging in the chair commented softly, his accent crisp British, his voice was nothing more than a soft caress and yet, it somehow held stone-cold authority.

She shivered, not out of fright, no, instead it was out of simple fascination. There was something about this man…something familiar.

"It has slowed down," Atticus murmured from her other side.

The man tilted his head in acknowledgement, before swiftly rising to his feet. He was tall, Zatanna noted again, easily six feet (Maybe it was her current small stature but she felt like he was a giant), his long legs were covered with expensive black suit pants, his lean torso enveloped in a crisp sky blue dress shirt that was tucked into his pants. He exuded detached regality, his posture impeccable and his gait, confident.

Zatanna immediately felt nothing but respect for him.

That particular thought stunned her.

No one, and she quite literally meant _no one_ had ever managed to earn her respect by their mere presence alone.

What was it about this man?

A single glance was exchanged with Atticus and she was pleased to see they had both come to a similar conclusion.

So gathering all the dignity, all the etiquette lessons she had been drilled with, all her adult maturity and her skill for impeccable word play; Zatanna and Atticus stood tall, this man had demanded their respect effortlessly and they would earn his in return.

He treated them as equals and they would meet up to his expectations, faultlessly and flawlessly.

"A pleasure, _Seňor._ I am Zatanna, this is my brother Atticus," Zatanna gestured to her brother, her back straightening automatically.

"A pleasure to meet your acquaintance, if you would be kind as to offer a name?" Atticus greeted in a calm voice, a layer of strength coating it.

The man observed them, his eyes not quite clear, as if he had specifically caused the light to shine in them so they would be indistinguishable -and perhaps, that was true, because every time she looked into them, her temples would ache with a sharp pain and her head would spin-, his lips were pressed together softly in a straight line, and Zatanna could not help but stare at the emphasized cheekbones that demanded her attention. The man's face was sharp, handsome features; having a calculated depth to them that made her curious.

Finally, he nodded, "Thee may call me Henry," his voice remaining soft, and yet that tone of cold sharpness made itself known.

Thee. Middle English formal form for 'you' as opposed to thou which was more informal and perceived as disrespectful back in the 14th century Yorkshire, although in some places neither Thee nor Thou was perceived as either formal or informal; in fact in some cases Thou was used in subjective form rather than Thee which was objective (if she was correct, truthfully she marveled at the fact that this particular literature lesson actually came into use; because she could tell from his sentence formation that whoever the man was, he must have been in present somewhere in northern England or England in general during the 14th century or somewhere around that time, enough to be affected by the dialect of Yorkshire -of course, this was merely a deduction-).

Strange but perhaps not so, this man certainly proved to be old (although, she could tell he wasn't a vampire); if the old terms that left his lips was of any significance at all; it was as if the word had slipped due to an unbreakable habit even though the rest of his tone of voice and articulate manner of speaking pointed towards modern British noble heritage (although, he could very well be from a noble family of middle age England, but who knew?).

" _Seňor Henry,_ absolutely charmed." Zatanna intoned, politely.

And his lips twitched -just barely- upwards. "Likewise, now if thee shall follow me?"

* * *

Before any assumptions were made; yes, she realized, following an unknown, dangerous man out in an unfamiliar territory was _absolutely stupid_ but there was something about this man; something about him that even her magic had sensed that he meant no harm and so, Zatanna trusted her magic.

She wasn't really concentrating on her surroundings, in fact as she and her brother followed Seňor Henry, she found her eyes straying towards him, observing him (dimly, she was aware that everyone they passed were completely still in their positions as well or twitching in barely there movements that showed her that time had indeed slowed down, or perhaps they were the ones moving too fast for it to cope); as she had previously mentioned, she couldn't quite distinguish the color of his eyes and truthfully she didn't really want to try else she might get that god-awful headache again.

Her eyes drifted up to his locks; short but she noticed they curled at the nape of his neck. Furthermore, they were an interesting shade of color; had she been a duller person -which she, thankfully, was not- she would have simply said, they were an auburn shade and been done with it, but she would be lying because his hair was not a simple auburn. It was unique in its shading; numerous strands of dark mahogany, deep wine and glistening brown tumbled into one another, the distinct affect it gave was an immediate reddish-brown color that gleamed dark copper brown in the light of the sun. It complimented him, made his regal exterior look perhaps even more pronounced.

"Does mine own face interest thee so much that thee shall not question where I am taking ye." He spoke suddenly, not looking at the two siblings following him; Zatanna noted that on any other person, those words would sound ridiculous but it was the _way_ the man delivered his speech that somehow hooked her in, that gave her no choice but to listen.

"Would you answer us, good sir, if we asked?" Atticus questioned, his eyes glinting knowingly.

Seňor Henry glanced at them through the corner of his eyes, approval passing quickly over his features before he looked to the front again. "Perhaps not, child, But what harm ever came from inquiring?"

He was waiting for their response, Zatanna realized, he wanted to see how they would answer.

It seemed Atticus saw as much, because his lips quirked upwards in an easy smile; exuding calm pleasantness, "If worded wrongly, the cost may as well be one's life, _Seňor Henry,"_

His answer seemed to please the man as he became quite once more but the cold calculated aura he had been releasing eased up, turned calmer; but it still gave her the impression that he was simply the calm before the storm and her curiosity swam within her; she wanted to know who he was, and why he seemed so familiar?

Seňor Henry soon stopped outside what seemed to be a office in the more private part of the college, a place reserved for important individuals of Whitmore's staff and to Zatanna's surprise she found the name plate outside this particular office to read 'Doctor. Grayson Gilbert'.

She exchanged a glance with her brother who seemed just as bewildered as she was and turned to the tall man who led them there and opened her mouth to put her confusion to words before the young 10-year old choked on her words and shuddered violently.

Her magic immediately reacted violently, expanding and intermixing with Atticus' who she suddenly noticed had the same reaction as her, for he had grown as white as a sheet and small pearls of sweat were visible on his brow.

She didn't quite know how to explain what she was feeling, she truly didn't. It was as if she was feeling _someone_ _else's_ pain and Zatanna felt horror etch deep within her, because what she felt was a minute and extremely dulled version of whatever this person was feeling and for some reason she felt _furious_. Her magic suddenly returned back to her, cloaking her entire form but it felt dangerous, like a coiled snake just waiting patiently for its prey. She had this incessant need to find the person who was _hurting_ so much, because for some unfathomable reason their hurt did not settle well within her, because somehow she just knew whoever this person was, they deserved more than what they had been dealt with in life; they deserved the _world_ in their palms.

"My purpose is fulfilled," The man, Seňor Henry, intoned in a quiet reserved voice, turning away, his intention to leave becoming apparent. "If thee shall excuse me."

"Wait," Atticus' voice sounded uncharacteristically sharp and serious, the Spanish accented word sounding strained. "Who _are_ you?"

"A mere guide," The older man responded, his head tilting to the side as he observed the two children in front of him; something in his gaze made them feel bare, as if he could see right through them, as if he knew all there was to know about them.

"With all due respect, _Seňor_ , but there is nothing _mere_ about you." Zatanna responded, trying to ignore the need to search for the person who was suffering quietly.

His lips twitched once more, "No, there is not," He admitted, yet it didn't sound arrogant, if anything it only sounded as if he was stating a simple known fact. "The one that calls for thee, just as thee call for him will be found inside that room," He changed the topic as easily as he breathed.

Zatanna blinked and unconsciously she reached for the door handle, she needed to open it to find the hurting person but stopped when she heard her brother's voice once more.

He spoke lowly yet surely, "You did not answer my question, _Seňor._ "

Seňor Henry did not blink just stared at them in an entirely unnerving manner, and then he closed his eyes, but when he opened them again both Atticus and Zatanna jerked back in shock.

Where there had been indistinguishable irises were now filled with an easily recognizable splash of colors;

The siblings stared at that odd yet familiar blend of dark teal-green and deeper sea-green, those wild untamable eyes that always roared and always reminded them of the uncontrollable and feral sea; fierce, relentless, merciless and ferocious, predatory in the most primitive of ways.

The Asturias eyes.

"You-" Zatanna couldn't find it in herself to complete her sentence, so shocked was she.

"An Asturias," Her brother spoke for her, his eyes gleaming in interest.

Seňor Henry, _finally,_ let his lips curve into a smile and Zatanna's heart almost stopped beating, because that was the same wicked smile she shared with her father and brother and it became obvious then; it was probably a family trait.

"Indeed, child." He voice layered with just the barest tints of amusement. "Thee could say I am here to watch over ye."

"Like a guardian?" Zatanna couldn't help but blurt earning a disbelieving look from her brother and to be honest she was internally smacking herself senseless. _Guardian?_ What the genuine fuck was she thinking?

The man did not mock her, only stared at her with eyes the exact replica of her own, "Aye, thee could assume as such."

"Papa has never mentioned you," Atticus stated carefully, his eyes following their (apparent) family member's movements watching for any slip up.

"I can imagine so," His smirk was small but portrayed his amusement well enough. "Thee still have much to learn, young ones."

"There is _always_ something to learn," Zatanna piped in and Seňor Henry inclined his head towards in acknowledgement and approved agreement.

"I shall take my leave now, young ones, and thee should find whom thee yearn to," The impressive man said.

Atticus narrowed his eyes before asking, "Will we ever see you again?"

"Of that, I have nae a doubt, child." The man responded solemnly and while he was not physically smirking, Zatanna could tell he was still smirking.

Atticus and Zatanna exchanged a glance but when they looked back they found the man gone and the surrounding existence returning to its normal state, birds chirping, talking voices and moving forms heard throughout the campus.

Atticus ignored it all and instead reached for the office door which he opened without any resistance; the two siblings found the office empty but seeing the half-full glass of alcohol with an un-melted ice cube in it suggested that Grayson Gilbert was present on the campus grounds but not currently in his office, probably having left recently.

For a moment, she wondered, what business Grayson would have here in Whitmore; she recalled he took often trips here and gave guest lectures in medicine, but what was he doing there on a weekend?

And as if wanting to taunt her momentary lapse in memory, a single fact rose to the forefront parts of her mind;

Grayson Gilbert was a member of the Augustine Society.

Fuck.

 **Fuck.**

 ** _Fuck._**

He could she forget? How could _she forget?_ And unknowingly, she had allowed such a man to live under the same roof as Elena and Jeremy, innocent children who had no idea that their father most likely experimented on living people; his only excuse (probably) being that they were vampires and therefore not humans.

Suddenly, all she felt was pure and utter disgust for the man with the bright blue orbs, he probably justified his actions with a horrifically naïve view of the world (she pondered if whether it was him from whom Elena had gained her personality in the show, it seemed a likely explanation; after all from what she had gathered about Miranda Gilbert, Elena's mother was a quirky, fair and delightful woman none of which Elena had been).

Atticus easily saw the revulsion on her face and deciphered her expression with an ease only known to him and their father.

"You remembered something," He shifted around to look at her properly.

Atticus was aware of how the world they were in was actually a TV show in her past life, their father had explained the multiverse theory to him as well (finding out that most of their favorite TV shows were probably alternative realities was an awesome notion –the thought that the Thunder Cats might be real was a thought that filled her with glee, seriously though, have you _seen_ Tygra and Ben-gali? Those were two attractive feline humanoids, on that note, she couldn't wait for the 2011 version of the show to come as well seeing as she had enjoyed both old and new versions of said show- but she digressed, _again)._

"I'll explain later." She said after a second's hesitation.

Atticus nodded sharply before moving to a door at the back of the office, she didn't ask how he knew to go there; it was probably his magic guiding him, hers was doing the same after all; urging her to go there.

The door was steel reinforced and had a distinct aroma which took Zatanna a moment to recognize.

"Vervain," Atticus spoke, a grim expression crossing his face.

He reached for the intimidating looking door lock and placed his hand on it, his eyes flashed, and a click signaled the door was no longer locked shut. He opened the door and the two siblings stepped inside the laboratory room.

Zatanna stilled; her eyes widened, her heart _raced_ ; blood roaring in her ear as her magic expanded dangerously, stray test tubes and other glass tools shattered feeling the wrath of her power. But, it wasn't simply her magic alone, it was Atticus' as well, both of their mystical auras intermixing dangerously and felt almost suffocating to anyone other than them.

There, strapped on a steel surgical table, lay a man. He was naked, utterly bare, save for a white towel which covered him; from his abdomen to his knees. His hair was an jet-black in color and his eyes a deep and dark ebony-brown; his facial features were strong, a defined jaw line and hard planes of structure, lining his entire jaw was the barest hint of a stubble.

His expression, however, was pulled into one of stunned disbelief; "Oh that Gilbert is truly a repulsive man," He announced, his eyes, dark and _weary_ attempting to comfort them, "This is no place for you, little ones, you should leave." He spoke soothingly, as if they were the ones who were meant to be harmed, as if they were uncomfortable and scared.

He spoke as if he wasn't the one who had been put through immeasurable amounts of grotesque torture and pain. He spoke as if he hadn't even _fathomed_ that they would help him, that anyone would help him.

He spoke like it was about them and not him.

Zatanna wanted to _cry._

Because the moment she had laid her eyes on him, her magic had reacted.

Instantly.

She could feel an unbreakable tendril of her magic tether her to the vampire lying on the table, but it didn't stop there, no, the same tendril of magic that connected her to the vampire welcomed and connected itself to the other strand of magic that had latched itself on the vampire as well; her brother's piece of magic.

They had just formed a three-way magical bond.

 _Family,_ her magic insisted.

 _Family,_ she, herself, welcomed.

This man was claimed as family and Zatanna wanted to cry earnestly because he was hurt and tired and she would do _anything_ to make him feel better.

Atticus gave a shuddering breath.

"Don't worr-" Her brother's voice cracked and he looked away trying to calm his overwhelming emotions.

"Hey, don't worry, right? No need to cry, I won't hurt you," Here the man sounded patronizing, "Not as long as I'm strapped to this table, you need to leave, if someone finds you here, you might get into trouble,"

"We don't want to leave you," Atticus' voice sounded stronger than before but it still wavered in emotion.

The vampire stared at them speechless, but then, his eyes warmed, and Zatanna caught a glimpse of kind reassurance and _sadness_ filling those tired eyes; "I had forgotten how genuine children can be," He murmured to himself before saying in a louder voice, "It's alright if you do, I'm Lorenzo, but…but my friends call me Enzo." He introduced himself, his lips stretching into a small smile, he looked as if he had forgotten how to give a genuine smile.

Enzo; one of the few vampires she had _genuinely_ respected in the show.

"I'm Atticus, and this is my little sister, Zatanna," Her brother attempted to return the smile.

"Hm, believe me when I say that it was a genuine pleasure to meet you," Enzo said warmly, "I haven't really had a friendly conversation like this in _many_ years. But I think you should leave…it's not very safe here."

That quiet admission did it, because had it been any other vampire, they would have attempted to manipulate the children into releasing them, but not Enzo. No, he didn't even think about himself, he just wanted to let them leave safely, he didn't sweet-talk them into releasing his bonds, because he feared what he would do if they did, he didn't want to hurt them because they were _children_.

He didn't want any of it and Zatanna _knew_ that because she could _feel_ his emotions and intentions.

She could feel him, and he was hurt in unbearable ways; mentally, emotionally and physically. He was so, _so_ tired.

She couldn't bear that.

Determination rose within her, she exchanged a quick, fleeting glance with her brother and stepped forward, quickly walking to the table and trying to find a way to undo his metal restraints.

"What are you doing?" Enzo looked at her with sudden alarm.

"Shut up," She hissed back, tears blurring her vision and her hands shaking because all she wanted to do was give this man all he deserved. He was family now, damn it.

She heard her brother searching through the hospital freezer units behind them and snapped back to concentrating at her own task at hand.

"I'll hurt you," He said, but there was forbidden hope shining in his dark eyes, as if he wanted to squash it down, as if he didn't _dare_ to hope.

She was slightly stunned because his eyes also showed that he had always hoped – _always hoped for the best-_ and that he might have been completely spent with his life but he never lost that flicker of hope.

That was all Zatanna needed to see, to decide, that Lorenzo St. John was an honest and sincere person with a good heart. She would be damned if she extinguished that spark of hope, his hopes _would_ be met, that she swore to herself on her honor, her soul and her name as an Asturias.

Stepping away from the table, her eyes glowed and her magic lashed out, flinging the vervain coated metal bars of his body.

Enzo lay stunned, disbelieving that he was no longer pinned down on the table, Zatanna, on the other hand, reached out and ripped out the IV drip that was feeding concentrated doses of vervain into his system -enough that it weakened him while also keeping him conscious (this angered her even more seeing as she _knew_ that vervain was acid to vampires)- and Atticus came over, three blood bags held in his arms, he immediately offered them to the vampire who was _still_ unmoving.

"Quick, _Seňor Lorenzo,"_ Her brother encouraged.

Enzo swallowed deeply, raising himself of the table but his limbs still trembled minutely, "You're witches," He stated, taking one of the offered blood bags.

"Yes," Atticus replied patiently.

"Why would you help me? Aren't you judgmental and well…aren't I an abomination of nature?" He mocked slightly.

Zatanna's scrunched up, "We're witches but we are most definitely _not_ servants of nature."

He stared at them, having moved to the second blood bag but pausing mid-bite (personally, Zatanna was impressed with his restraint) "I'm confused."

"Of course you are." Atticus sounded amused.

"We're Asturias, you'll understand what it means soon enough."

"Right." He had finished his third blood bag and was now just staring at them.

Zatanna stared back and giving into that incessant urge she reached forward and looped her arms around his waist, he immediately stiffened in her hug and she could feel him staring down at her in mystification. "What are you doing?"

"Its called giving a hug," Her brother responded for her, drily.

Enzo remained silent before patting her head awkwardly, "Yes, well, that's nice," He sounded as if he was out of his element.

She pulled back to look up at him unimpressed but there was sadness lurking within her eyes, the vampire before her hadn't felt physical comfort in such a _long_ time that he wasn't quite sure what to make of it.

"Get used to it, there's a whole lot more on its way." She informed him.

He blinked before nodding, his eyes now expressing discomfort and dutifully Zatanna stepped back.

"We should leave." Atticus said, handing Enzo some more blood bags he had fished out of the freezer. "Before anyone comes back."

The reminder was all Enzo needed before he straightened up, climbed to feet, stumbling just for a second as he tied the towel around his waist. His expression had darkened, "Yes, we should, I have a certain doctor to visit after all."

Zatanna followed the taller man out, "Wait."

He stopped, looking down at the two siblings, his eyes softening momentarily, "Yes?"

"I…um…after you're done with whatever you need to do, you could stay at our place…we live in Mystic Falls, _sadly_ …in a mansion by the southern outskirts of the town. Come over tonight, if you can? Maybe?" She, for the _first time_ in her second life, sounded pathetically nervous.

Enzo looked at them in an assessing way before opening his mouth and saying hesitantly, "I might swing by…I-" He faltered in his words before crouching down in front of them, she noticed the deathly pallor of his complexion had receded revealing a more healthier light olive skin tone; the lightest shade of that particular skin pigmentation there was. "I am extremely and unspeakably grateful," He spoke, his voice wavering, "You have no idea, how much...you have _honestly_ saved me from a fate that I wouldn't even wish on the worst of my enemies and I am forever in your debt."

"No debts." Atticus refuted the last statement instantly.

"Never from you." Zatanna elaborated.

Enzo was struck speechless once more before he gave them a small smile.

 _"Thank you."_

And never had those two words sounded more genuine and heartfelt.

* * *

Enzo had fed himself, he had dressed himself and he had also gotten rid of the security footage taken of Grayson Gilbert's office and experiment laboratory (because he'd be damned if those children were caught on the camera and therefore garnering the Augustine Society's attention, he would _not_ let those children fall in that society's horrifying fingers).

Having done all of that, the vampire -who _still_ couldn't quite believe that he was free and in the outside world- was tailing a rather worried Grayson Gilbert and his car.

The despicable man, who had no heart and no remorse, who had done horrific _experiments_ on him because he was a _vampire_ and therefore, in the doctor's eyes, unable to feel.

It was tempting.

Turning of his emotions that is, but Enzo reasoned that his emotions were what connected him to his humanity, and had he been human he wouldn't have had the luxury to turn off his emotions, so why should he turn them off when he was a vampire? Why should he get that momentary relief as a vampire when he couldn't have had it if he was a human? It was a simple matter of Ethics. Besides, he had always thought it was the coward's way out.

Ironically, he found that Grayson Gilbert lived in Mystic Falls (the same place where Atticus and Zatanna said they did and if he remembered from a far off memory, it was also Damon Salvatore's birth town).

For a moment, he considered whether he should let the man go; he had his own family, Enzo could recall from the rambles of the remorseless doctor as he cut him open to extract his kidneys. But remembering that memory also fueled his rage, the memory of his resigned helplessness made him unforgiving.

So with a silent apology to the Doctor's family, Enzo stepped on a bridge, standing right in the middle of the road, a sign by said construct read 'Wickery Bridge'. The Doctor was talking on his phone and hadn't quite noticed him yet, but when he did it was too late.

The human man swerved the steering wheel of his car violently but this unfortunately led to him driving straight of the bridge and into the river below.

Enzo felt nothing as he stared at the sinking car, his ears could easily hear the panicked heartbeat of the man in the car, until it slowed down and there was nothing left.

He had contemplated killing the man himself, to sink his fangs within his neck and bite so hard that his very head would tear off but then again, the vampire didn't want to put any effort in his death, he wanted the doctor to die a meaningless and worthless death. He wanted to show him that he did not matter at all, that he wasn't _worth_ killing.

Releasing a breath he wasn't sure he had held, he watched the car sink completely, only its hood barely visible, and Enzo turned away. He contemplated hunting down Damon Salvatore's treacherous arse and setting it on fire but something stopped him.

 _Yes_ , he had plots to make, an Augustine Society to murder but then he remembered honest and glowing teal-sea green eyes and an invitation to stay with them; no sign of deception and only genuine care visible. He didn't know why but something in him tugged, it filled with warmth at the thought of the two children who freed him, who offered him a place to stay, who essentially saved his life.

Enzo turned and ran.

He followed the vague directions the two magical siblings had given him until he stood before a homely and yet expensive looking mansion. The tall glass doors and windows revealed warm spotlights that lit up the inside of the structure.

It was late, nearing 1:00 am. And the lights remained on as if the inhabitants were waiting for something…or perhaps, someone.

He gave into that urge to walk up to the front door and, reaching forward, he pressed the bell buzzer.

He heard running footsteps, and through the glass he caught sight of relieved grins and _happy_ eyes. The door opened and he barely registered the man who had an uncanny resemblance to the children following behind.

"You came," Atticus smiled, bouncing on his feet.

"I did." He answered, trying to smile, it felt _strange_ to do so.

Thin yet strong arms wound around his waist again and he was taken aback to find the girl -Zatanna- hugging him. _Again._

"I'm glad," She grinned up at him. "Now, would you like to come in, Enzo?"

Enzo. They had called him Enzo.

 _My friends call me Enzo_. His own voice resounded in his mind and for some unspeakable reason he was relieved. He was welcomed and what a _beautiful_ feeling that was.

"It would be my pleasure," He responded in his British-accented drawl as opposed to their Spanish-accented one.

And as he stepped over the threshold of their house, Enzo felt like he had come _home._

* * *

 **Additional Information:** _thou_ \- singular informal, subject ( _Thou art here._ = _You are here._ )  
 _thee_ \- singular informal, object ( _He gave it to thee._ )  
 _ye_ \- plural or formal, subject  
 _you_ \- plural or formal, object

Furthermore; 'Thou' is historically perceived in Yorkshire (England) as being disrespectful, or over-familiar in a formal context, e.g; if used to address a teacher, or upon greeting a stranger. However, 'thee' is perceived to be more respectful.

Date of Births:

Ignacio Asturias: 12th May, 1968.

Pauline Bennett: 1st January, 1969.

Atticus Bennett-Asturias: 7th August, 1990.

Zatanna Bennett-Asturias: 31st October, 1992.

All other birthdays of canon characters are as have been listed according to Wikia, with the only exception being those who's birthdays have not been given, of which I shall take liberty of giving them specific dates of birth myself.

* * *

 **A/N:** Okay, so I apologize for the delay in updating but I swear I was drowning in exams, in fact my last one was yesterday. I updated as soon as I could and thank you guys for being patient with me.

On that note;

Wow.

The response received was amazing and you people are so awesome! The reviews were heartwarming.

Thank you for all the views, favorites, follows and reviews. On the topic of reviews; thank you so much; **Kristina'sMyName, Adhara Snow, Alessandra12** (I made the corrections suggested, love, and don't worry, I'm not offended at all. On the contrary, I care very much about what you had to say) **, marlastiano, RebeliousOne, DarkDust27, RedAro, AlianaGabriellaWinchester17, AyonSage, keikei313, PrincessMagic, Smiling Seshat, Lotte2265, Pheonix Labonair, DevilSurvivor, mybrainexploded and Annie** (Thank you so much for saying that, it was flattering to read and I blushed the whole while), for leaving your reviews, its motivation I tell you.

Further thanks to **Leah Petrova** and **JollyLoser** for adding this story in their respective communities; ' **Diaries of the Displaced'** and **'Can't Get Enough Of'**.

Anyways, hope you enjoy this chapter.

Like/Favorite and Review/Comment, please. I respond to all reviews via PM.

* * *

 **Translations:**

 ** _Querida hermana:_** _Dearest/Dear sister or Sister Dear._

 ** _Seňorita Bonita:_** _Miss Bonita._

 ** _Hermana:_** _Sister._

 ** _Tía abuela:_** _Grand-Aunt._

 ** _Seňor:_** _Sir._

 ** _Seňor Henry:_** _Sir/Mister Henry._

 **Note:** All translations were taken with the help of Google. If there are any mistakes, I would like to apologize as I do not know how to speak the language.

* * *

 _"Mors nobis favet; Death favors us."_

 ** _-The Asturias Family Motto-_**

* * *

 **Disclaimer** : This is a work of fanfiction; I do not claim any ownership over any characters, situations or anything of relation from the TVD world. I do, however, own the Asturias Family, anything related to them, any other Original-Character introduced and the plot of this particular story.


	8. Chapter VI:

**Warnings:** Language, PTSD, Death, Violence, Morbid jokes and Dark humor that might offend others e.g. jokes on contemplation of suicide, these are just used to describe the rather morbid sense of humor the character/s may have and are in no means used to offend anyone or make light of the serious topics that may be mentioned. For any sensitive topic used in a joke, I apologize in advance and hope you keep in mind I meant no offense.

 **Note:** The dialogues in Italic show that the speakers are either a form of flashbacks or communicating in a different language, in this case spanish.

* * *

 **Secret: Definition:** ** _(Noun) Something that is kept or meant to be kept unknown or unseen by others._**

 ** _'And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets at always hidden in the most unlikely places. This who don't believe in magic will never find it.'_**

 **-Roald Dahl-**

 ** _'~I need another story, Something to get off my chest, My life gets kinda boring, Need something that I can confess, Til' all my sleeves are stained red, From all the truth that I'm said, Come by it honestly I swear.~'_**

 **-Secrets; One Republic-**

* * *

 **Chapter VI:**

 ** _22nd_** ** _June, 2004; Gilbert Household, Mystic Falls; Virginia, United States of America._**

"Atty, what are you plotting?" Bonnie cast a speculative glance in her older cousin's direction.

"Nothing to worry yourself over, _Seňorita Bonita,_ " Atticus responded absentmindedly, reaching out a hand to press the button of the doorbell, "And stop calling me that insufferable name," Zatanna noted her brother sounded both amused and exasperated as he spoke.

"Never," Bonnie grinned before it fell and she eyed him through narrowed eyes, "And I find it interesting how you didn't even deny that you were plotting something."

"Astute observation, _querida prima._ " Atticus responded breezily, a lazy smirk lighting up his handsome features. "And I find no reason to deny the truth."

Bonnie turned away from the door and huffed loudly as she scowled at Atticus. "You-"

She was cut off when the front door opened and _John_ _Gilbert_ stood across the threshold looking at them with vague detached interest.

Now, Zatanna would have usually taken the opportunity to properly assess the Gilbert she had never met (in her opinion and from what she remembered from the show, John Gilbert had not been a likable character but he hadn't exactly been unlikable either; granted he made stupid decisions like everyone else but the sentiment remained, as a result she felt rather neutral about him), but seeing a distressed Jeremy Gilbert and Caroline Forbes standing behind said man shifted her priorities towards them.

They looked nervous (it was too damn early for the drama that would occur, the only reason she and Atticus were even still in Mystic Falls –because they were supposed to be back in Barcelona this time of the year- was at the Baby Scooby-gang's insistence and Elena's –because they just _had_ to be there for her twelfth birthday); Jeremy looked ready to cry but was making a pitiful effort to hide what was so blatantly written on his face, Caroline's face gave nothing away but her body language told much about her current emotional status.

She wagered the two were waiting for them; if the way how they had jerked forward towards the trio of witches was anything to go by. But then as if remembering something, they quickly restrained themselves and instead started shifting on their feet with impatience.

Zatanna shifted her glance towards John Gilbert, who was _still_ watching them silently (weirdo), and gave him a polite nod and a civil greeting before walking past him and into the house, aware of Atticus and Bonnie who followed her inside after giving the adult man their own hellos.

"Where's the birthday girl?" Atticus grinned, his eyes however were alert and attentive as he looked at the two children in front of them.

And Caroline, who was going to say something, stopped and just stared at Atticus, whose own expression fell into that odd mixture of amused exasperation.

Zatanna, momentarily forgetting the curiosity and concern brimming within her, turned her face away and sniggered.

She didn't blame Caroline's sudden distraction, Atticus had recently hit a growth spurt, his voice had started deepening (the occasional cracks in it were amusing; Enzo and she had collapsed in laughter when this first happened), the regal lines of his face had become more pronounced and he had shot up from an already tall (for a thirteen year-old _boy_ ) 5'3 to an even taller 5'11 (and still room for growth; she suspected at most her brother would grow to be 6'3).

Of course, that was not to say, the unappealing quirks of puberty hadn't plagued Atticus, because they _had_ , much to his irritation and uncharacteristic mortification (and Enzo and her own undying amusement); the fact his limbs were still lanky and had yet to fill out with muscle mass and the coarse whiskers lining his jaw gave him an air of awkwardness (heh, it was amusing to her that even inherited good looks did nothing to stop puberty and the awkward physical changes). Thankfully, he wasn't plagued with pubescent pimples.

She on the other hand, was.

Honestly, she hated going through the pubescent stages of a female's life. _Again._

Her chest which had filled out from the flat board it was, still remained pathetically small when compared to Elena or Caroline or Vicki and even Bonnie's growing chests (which was hilarious, because in her past life she had a rather generous bosom –even during puberty- and in this life it was small and would probably only grow to be average sized while _still_ remaining at the small side, and oh, _the irony_ ).

On the plus side, her own face had begun to become more defined (hell _-o_ , good looks) but apparently had also made room for those insufferable pimples (Good bye, good looks) and she wondered when these uncomfortable stages of pre-teen/ teenage hood would end.

She had grown taller too, in fact prior to his own growth spurt, Zatanna had been taller than Atticus; standing at a willowy 5'5. Unlike Atticus who was gangly and still skinny with his tall height (because of no muscle definition as of yet), Zatanna did not look so scrawny (for which she thanked her body filling out) as her hips had rounded and her bosom had curved outwards as well, her tall height suited her; giving her a distinct graceful and slender appearance. She knew she would grow a little taller; 2 or 3 inches at most (Which was, again, hilarious because in her past life, her height as an adult was 5'3 and she was already taller than that in this life).

She supposed it was their parents' heights that influenced Zatanna and Atticus' own; their father being a lean and muscular man of 6'3 and their mother had been lissome woman of 5'9.

Ignoring their pubescent issues (And Enzo's near-hysterical amusement with it), Zatanna deciding to spare her brother from Caroline's rather probing stare (apparently, the blonde seemed to have developed a crush on her brother and did not care if she was making it obvious or not) and the Asturias witch coughed meaningfully.

Caroline snapped her eyes away from a thoroughly bemused Atticus and towards an equally amused Zatanna and Bonnie.

"Oh, right," She blinked at them, "We have a problem."

"I gathered as much." Zatanna commented drily.

"Rude," Caroline flipped a sunny blonde strand over her shoulder. "Anyways-"

"Elena's locked herself up in her room and I'm pretty sure she's crying!" Jeremy jumped in, his brown eyes wide and reminiscent to Elena's doe-eyed expressions.

Zatanna frowned, barely registering Tyler's presence; he had just arrived and now stood behind her shoulder.

"Take us to her," Atticus implored, his brows furrowing.

Jeremy nodded jerkily and led them through the foyer and up the stairs. Zatanna had spied Miranda Gilbert bustling around in the kitchen and promptly detoured with her brother and cousin to hand the woman Elena's birthday present and greet her (she _really_ liked Miranda; the woman was an amiable and fun-loving personality and simply _not_ unlikable).

Elena's door was shut and locked, Matt and Vicki were both in Jeremy's room, looking worried (In Matt's case) and partly uninterested but also curious (In Vicki's case) and Jeremy, Caroline and Bonnie joined them upon Atticus' insistence; for some reason Tyler wouldn't budge from his spot by Elena's door.

And so the trio stood outside the doppelgänger's room and Atticus knocked on her door tentatively.

"One minute, Care, I'm looking for…my headband. I'll be right out –promise!" Elena's voice; shaking and thick with obvious tears came through the wooden door.

Atticus frowned while Zatanna asked, "Elena? It's us, can you open the door _now?"_

She didn't need to ask as the door shot open the moment her words left her lips and a blurring form launched itself into the arms of the person closest to the door –who happened to be a rather alarmed looking Tyler.

Elena had buried her face into his shoulder and she was sobbing inconsolably as she gasped out unintelligible words, "I can't believe they wouldn't tell- I'm not even their- What do I _do?"_ She wailed loudly at the end.

"Elena?" Miranda called from down-below, having heard her daughter's yell. "Is everything alright?"

Had it been a normal circumstance, Elena would have brightened up at her mother's voice and been quick to either reassure her mother or share what was on her mind. None of that happened, Elena instead recoiled at her mother's voice and curled into herself.

Relatively shocked at her reaction, Zatanna was quick to call to Miranda; "Everything's fine, _Seňora Gilbert,_ Elena's just missing _Seňor Gilbert."_ Oh, how it physically took effort to even refer to Grayson Gilbert –that disgusting human being.

"Oh, do you want to talk about it, honey?" Miranda responded empathetically, coming up the stairs, her voice soft and sad.

" _No!_ " Elena was quick to respond making Miranda stop in her steps and stare at her daughter with a slightly hurt expression.

"I mean," Elena breathed deeply, her voice coming out a bit more steadier, "I was just missing Dad and everything's okay now, I'm just – we're gonna be in my room and play some games, okay?"

Miranda tilted her head to the side and watched her daughter through sudden shrewd moss-green eyes as she gave a noncommittal hum. "If you say so."

Elena nodded vigorously, her hand clutching Tyler's shirt between its fingers as if it was a lifeline.

"Don't worry, _Seňora Gilbert_ ," Zatanna gave the woman a meaningful glance, "We're with her."

Miranda nodded thankfully and passed her daughter a smile which she returned shakily, before the woman turned to walk down the stairs, "And call me Miranda, how many times do I have to say it, Zatanna?" She called playfully over her shoulder earning a genuine grin from the Asturias witch.

"One time too many, _Seňora Miranda."_ Zatanna replied just as playfully.

As soon as she was gone, Caroline flounced out of Jeremy's room, where she and the others were spying at the proceedings from, looking at Elena with worry lighting up her sky-blue eyes.

"Elena?" Bonnie asked softly coming up behind the blonde girl.

"I need to talk to Zee," The brunette said abruptly, "Alone, please."

Tyler and Caroline did not look happy at that, although Atticus and Bonnie nodded understandingly and with that, Zatanna followed Elena in her room, closing the door behind her (Zatanna had no doubts that the rest of the Baby Scooby Gang plus Atticus and Vicki had their ears pressed up against said door).

"Okay, what's wrong?" Zatanna asked, taking a seat atop Elena's bed.

The brunette wringed her hands together before she burst into tears again and launched herself into Zatanna's arms.

Zatanna grunted at the force and wrapped her arms around the doppelgänger reflexively, as if on habit, her hands came up to smooth back the thick brown locks as she hummed reassuringly.

"I can't help you, Elena, if you don't tell me what the matter is." The witch spoke clearly.

Elena pulled back, her face a sticky mess of tears and snot before sobbing out; "I'm _adopted!"_

There was a loud thump from the other side of the door.

And Zatanna blinked; once, twice and then thrice for good measure.

Oh.

" _Oh,"_ She said out loud, then paused, and then resumed; summing up the entire situation in two eloquent words;

"Well, shit."

Elena nodded through her blubbering and hysterical cries.

Zatanna grabbed the newly turned twelve-year old's face and rubbed away the tear tracks before speaking in a soothing tone of voice, "Elena, I'm going to need you to calm down and tell me exactly how you found out about this."

Because, seriously, this was an unexpected development.

"Y-you…believe me?" Elena hiccuped, trying to take in deep breathes.

The Asturias witch's lips curved upwards into a small reassuring smile. "I know you wouldn't lie about something _this_ important, not with the way you're crying, so go ahead, _querida,_ take your time calming down and then tell me everything."

Elena nodded before inhaling heavily and then exhaling loudly, this continued as Zatanna rubbed soft circles against the brunette's back.

The witch supposed that while this was an entirely unforeseen circumstance, she also shouldn't be too wholly surprised. The changes in Elena's personality had already caused rather large ripples and Zatanna was also unsure how this would affect the entire timeline, things were going so differently but perhaps that wasn't a bad thing; she had already decided to fuck everything up and so what if things were changing? If the entire timeline had shifted wildly? It didn't matter because she would try her damned best to make sure the changed circumstances turned out for the better. There would be no unneeded drama and no stupid decisions made, not if she could help it.

She was would ensure it (or try to, because she was being a tad bit too confident, but hey, she was an Asturias and therefore superior, no fucks given otherwise).

"Okay. Okay," Elena took in a deep quivering breath, "Okay, it happened this morning, I was up really early and was watching Looney Tunes, but I guess I fell asleep on the couch. When I woke up, I heard Mom and U-uncle John talking in the kitchen…and…uh" Her lips quivered and tears filled her eyes again and Zatanna was quick to pull the young girl in her arms and shush her.

"It's okay, just breathe." Zatanna said softly.

Elena nodded against her shoulder before clearing her throat and continuing, "Right, they were arguing quietly and at first I didn't really understand what they were saying and figured I should leave. But Mom sounded _so_ angry, I couldn't help but eavesdrop."

She looked slightly guilty but also unrepentant and Zatanna suppressed her amused smirk.

"Uncle John said something like since Dad was…Dad was gone-" Elena looked downcast here and Zatanna suddenly had mixed feelings over Grayson Gilbert's death; on one hand she couldn't blame Enzo for killing him and honestly she didn't even care about his death but on the other hand he _was_ a good father to his children so at least he wasn't a complete heartless arsehole, "-Uncle John should take me in, Mom got really angry at that and they started arguing but then Uncle John said that I was **_his_** _r-real daughter_ and that Mom and Dad had j-just uh…adopted me, Mom was really shocked b-because she didn't say anything for a minute –and…and I think she didn't know either…about Uncle John being my, uh, m-my _real_ dad…maybe…and then she punched him, I guess, and hissed something I couldn't really hear and…and…What do I _do?!"_

Zatanna nodded to herself and resumed rubbing circles against Elena's back. On one hand she was pleased that Miranda had punched John in the face (it would explain his black eye –it was also hilarious and she mentally marked it as another one of Miranda's awesome features; able to throw a damned good punch) and on the other hand she mused about John Gilbert's sheer guts to actually make such a suggestion; after all, he was the one who gave up his daughter and suddenly he expected to have rights over her?

Zatanna was tempted to turn him into a frog.

Wait, no. That was unoriginal, a mosquito seemed better suited and the irony might just kill the Gilbert before anything else (you know, because mosquitoes suck blood and so do vampires and Johnny boy hates vampires).

Anyways, two significant points stood out to Zatanna after hearing Elena's explanation; the first being that Miranda Gilbert had not been aware that John was Elena's biological father (this made her want to punch Grayson because he should have told his wife –that lousy waste of space) and the second being that Elena was far more observant in this timeline i.e she was less lost in her happy bubble of obliviousness and more aware of events occurring around her.

Which was a good thing, to be fair, and Zatanna didn't _care_ that the events were already changing; that _was_ what she wanted didn't she? Besides, you only get one life to live and even then you didn't have the advantage that she already did; which was knowing most of the events which would have occurred (even if they might not go in the same order as in the show timeline –or happen at all if she had a say about it- but who the fuck cared, right?).

Now, all she needed to do, was handle the current situation.

Elena was still sniffing and breathing rather heavily but was also relatively calmer than before, Zatanna felt a pang of sympathy for the young girl but also knew that she needed to quickly salvage the situation. There was no need for unnecessary drama, and the best way to do that was to handle it in a calm manner.

"Okay, Elena," Zatanna began, her mind made up and her tone soft yet firm, "I know that right now, you must be feeling confused and probably having an identity crisis but you _need_ to think about what you're going to do next," The witch smiled reassuringly at the panicked look sent her way, "You asked me what you're going to do, let me ask you something, do you love your mum? Because she _is_ your mum, isn't she? She raised you and loved you and took you in with open arms. She _loves_ you, Elena."

"And I love her, she-she's _mom!_ " Elena exclaimed fiercely, as if that explained everything and Zatanna could not help but smile approvingly.

"Exactly, so I'm merely going to _suggest_ an idea of what you should do, the rest is your choice." That was well put, if Zatanna did say so herself, it would bring Zatanna's proposition to Elena's attention while also making the doppelgänger feel like she had semblance of control over her actions.

Elena looked at her with alert eyes, her expression settling into a determined one.

The Asturias witch bit back a smile before saying in an assured tone of voice, "I think you should sit down and have _calm_ talk with your mother. Don't make any dramatic assumptions, just…just _talk_ to each other. Communicate. Tell her what's on your mind and let her explain her side of the story."

The newly turned twelve-year old nodded slowly and thoughtfully, "I like your idea. I-I'll do that, I don't care about Uncle John or my real mother. Mom is mom and Dad is dad. They took me in and raised me…and they…I _love_ them." The brunette sounded more convinced as she spoke, her doe-brown eyes blazing with emotion.

Zatanna ignored the revulsion that rose within her at the mention of Grayson Gilbert and instead concentrated on the sudden fondness she felt for not only Elena but all the young ones present behind Elena's locked door.

They were not meant to grow on her, but they did. Innocent, mischievous children, who had so much more depth to them then portrayed in the show. They had ingrained themselves in her life, and she couldn't imagine it otherwise.

They were _hers._

Simply put, nothing else to it.

"Now, why don't you let those pitiful eavesdroppers in?" Zatanna suggested drily.

With a relieved giggle, Elena walked towards the door and threw the door open abruptly; making those leaning against it (Tyler, Caroline, Vicki and Jeremy) fall into a flailing heap with a shout of surprise.

As if just registering the door had opened; Jeremy and Caroline were quick to shoot up and launch themselves at Elena, tears in their eyes and blubbering words at the tip of their tongues.

"You're _always_ going to be my sister!" Jeremy exclaimed with surprising ferocity, "I _don't_ care if you're adopted!"

"And don't you dare worry, we're with you, for like, forever!" Caroline sobbed out.

Elena let out a mutated version of laugh, "You idiots," she said through tear-filled eyes and a wobbly smile, "You're not supposed to make me cry…ugh…I love you guys too."

Atticus came to stand next to her and gave her an exasperated look.

 _"I think this is a situation that perfectly encompasses the term 'shit has hit the fan',"_ He huffed out in their native tongue, _"Although, I must give you credit where deserved, querida hermana; you handled it perfectly."_

Zatanna preened under her older brother's praise before sending a smirk his way and informing him in Spanish, _"I'm going to do something."_

He gave her a faintly alarmed look, _"This can't be good,"_ He was quick to mutter to himself before leveling a curious glance in her direction, _"Well, go on, tell me."_

Zatanna had this urge to cackle loudly, instead she side-glanced at the rest of _her_ kids before sparing a fleeting glance towards Elena's door which slammed shut in response to her will and simultaneously made all of the room's occupants, save for Atticus and Zatanna herself, jump violently in surprise.

"What was that?" Vicki looked spooked.

"Magic," Zatanna announced in an ominously low voice.

A pause as everybody stared at Zatanna in disbelief.

And then, Atticus cracked up.

 _"I swear it, you are the best little sister_ _ **ever**_ _,"_ He gasped out loud, _"This…this right here is the perfect way to do the big reveal. Just brilliant. I love you."_

She grinned mischievously at him before turning her eyes back to the rather deadpanned looking group of pubescent children.

"Seriously?" Caroline huffed, her brows pulling downwards, "This is not the time for jokes. Elena's having a crisis, for crying out loud."

"I'm not joking." Zatanna replied, her tone of voice bland and her expression dry. "Seriously, that's magic. I'm a witch and Atticus is a warlock."

Tyler rolled his eyes, "These jokes got old a _long_ time ago."

"Tough crowd," The Asturias witch muttered to her brother before turning towards Bonnie, "She's a witch too." Zatanna pointed to her cousin.

Bonnie gasped, "Oh my god, Zee, rude!"

Atticus snorted.

Zatanna ignored her and pointed to Tyler, "You're an un-triggered werewolf," and then she pointed towards Elena, "You're a doppelgänger," and then towards Jeremy, "You're a potential supernatural hunter," And finally towards the Donovan siblings and Caroline, "And you're all relatively normal."

Atticus snorted again.

"Excuse you, Zee, there is nothing _relatively normal_ about me. I'm one of a kind." Caroline's voice portrayed the genuine and personal offense she took to Zatanna's proclamation.

This time, Zatanna snorted.

"Of course, forgive me." She immediately apologized with a grin on her face.

"Seriously, Care?" Matt stared at the other blonde, "That's what you're concerned about and not at the fact that Zee and Ace just proclaimed most of us supernatural creatures?"

"I did not, in fact, say anything at all." Atticus interjected.

"You haven't exactly shown any concern over your sister's delusional exclamations!" Matt sounded a tad bit hysterical, in her opinion that is.

"Oi, I take offense to that." Zatanna droned lazily in response.

"What's a doppelgänger?" Elena frowned looking distracted as she asked Vicki, who shrugged in response.

"Who the hell cares?" Tyler scowled, sending an exasperated look in Elena's direction.

"You don't believe us, do you?" The female Spaniard questioned dryly.

Bonnie rolled her eyes, "I just want some cake."

Atticus smirked, "I approve of your priorities, _querida prima."_

"I just wanna know what a doppelgänger is," Elena looked genuinely curious, "And is it cool?"

Zatanna tilted her head to the side, her eyes straying to the small birthday candles littered on top of Elena's nightstand, before smirking at her brother.

"I can prove it –we both can." Zatanna pointed to herself and Atticus.

"Go ahead," Vicki rolled her eyes, "I'd like to see this."

"Don't encourage them!" Matt cried out.

"Hey, come on, it'll be fun to see Zee and Ace make fools of themselves for once." Jeremy grinned.

"Yeah man," Tyler agreed, "It'll be fun."

"I think this is all stupid." Caroline stated bluntly.

"Then you're going to _love_ this." Atticus spoke sardonically, as he watched his sister fetch a tiny birthday candle from the wooden table by Elena's bedside.

Zatanna dramatically presented the candle to her unimpressed audience before giving a wicked grin and snapping her fingers near the candle wick, making a small flame ignite and blaze slightly before it burned in a constant manner.

The group of pubescent children _stared._

"But that was nothing more than a poor excuse of an opening act," Zatanna commented carelessly. "Now, watch _this._ "

She stuck a finger beneath the flame burning upon the tip of the candle wick and when she pulled the appendage away, the small flame followed. She placed the ball of fire in the middle of the palm of her other hand and steadily made it grow larger in size, until it encompassed her entire palm.

Still, no one made a sound as they stared in stunned horror; simply watching as the ball of fire did not burn Zatanna's hand and floated from her own hand towards Atticus' offered one. When the flame ball reached his hand, it blazed brightly, shooting up dangerously before returning to its previous palm-sized appearance.

And they continued to watch, as both Atticus and Zatanna seemed to come alive, their eyes intense and there smirks wicked.

Zatanna pitied them momentarily, maybe she shouldn't have sprung it upon them; but hey, there's no time like the present, right?

She followed her brother's movements as he manipulated the flame to change form into a falcon and then, her eyes followed the fire-falcon as it flew around the room.

The young Spaniard eyed the _still_ gaping band of children and momentarily considered the rather large change she just made and –she eyed the speechless yet intrigued Vicki here- the effects it would have on their group's dynamics.

Nothing bad, if she had anything to do with it (and she had _everything_ to do with it). In fact, she was sure this would bring them closer together, as no one would be left behind. They were hers and she had always taken care of what was hers.

The flame dissipated into thin air when Atticus waved his hand and the Asturias siblings turned to stare at their audience.

There was silence.

And then-

-Matt dropped in a faint.

There was complete pandemonium as Zatanna blinked; voices speaking over each other and thin forms crowding around her, Atticus and an unconscious Matt.

Well, she supposed she would first have to do some damage control.

* * *

Zatanna breathed through her nose, trying to suppress her irritation as she buried her face within the soft and cool recesses of her pillow.

There was a blissful silence that followed.

And _then_ the fucking doorbell rang. _Again_.

Zatanna would murder whoever was on the other side.

The Asturias witch violently swung herself out of her comfortable bed and threw open her room door; she marched out with naught a single shred of grace she usually carried herself with (her etiquettes tutor would have been horrified) and narrowly missed slamming into her equally annoyed and equally sleepy brother.

Both grumbled and stalked down the stairs to reach the large glass doors of their mansion and preferably chewing into whoever was on the other side (because it was too damn early).

The siblings paused once they spotted both their father and Enzo sitting in a companionable silence in the living room, each man on one of the two armchairs placed on either side of the unlit fireplace.

"What the hell?" Atticus grumbled, running a hand through his tousled locks.

Enzo grinned, his ebony-brown eyes lit up with mischief. "There's someone for you at the door." He commented while sipping at the cup of tea he held in his hand.

"No! _Truly?"_ Zatanna gasped sarcastically.

"You could do so much better than that." Her father remarked in an offhanded manner as he read through the newspaper.

Atticus rolled his eyes and poked his head out of the living room to peek across the hallway and through the large glass front-doors.

"It's the baby Scooby gang." Her brother muttered, suddenly looking tired and amused. "I blame _you_ for this, Zatanna."

She did not reply to this; she had thought the two of them had satisfied the shocked group of pubescent children in answering their queries (ridiculous as they were) the previous night (after the, admittedly, hilarious big reveal of their true magical –and superior, never forget superior- nature), but it seemed she was mistaken.

"It's too early for this." Zatanna groaned out loud.

This made both adults opposite of her pause in their actions and stare at her in a decidedly amused manner.

"It's one in the afternoon, love." Enzo pointed out.

"You weren't supposed to be sleeping in this late," Their father reminded them, "I only let you because you had a late night and had requested as such."

For a moment, Zatanna was tempted to throw something; it was for the very reason her father had voiced out that she was so annoyed. The two siblings rarely ever had days where they were allowed to sleep in; and upon attaining such a day, it had been spoiled by the kids who did not have an ounce of patience. Couldn't they have waited four more hours?

"Why didn't you at least open the door?" She asked instead in a very resigned manner.

"They're here to see you." Was the answer her father provided her –accompanied with a borderline sadistic grin (She loved her father, truly, but she was also very tempted to through a temper tantrum).

She turned reproaching eyes towards the vampire who was very blatantly smirking at them.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Atticus accused Enzo.

"Immensely, I assure you."

Observing Enzo suddenly filled the reborn witch with a sense of accomplishment; it had been a long year for all of them.

Grayson Gilbert's death had resulted in a grief filled period for his wife and children and (no matter how much she abhorred him) Zatanna and Atticus had understood the feeling brought on with the loss of a parent, and so the siblings had stayed in Mystic Falls to support the Gilbert family.

Not only that but they had also stayed for Enzo. The former Augustine-vampire did not initially start staying with them (she supposed that his own immediate feelings of familial loyalty and affection for them had confused him), he often disappeared for weeks on the end and while she hadn't quite approved of it (because she needed to protect this vampire and make him happy, damn it) she also understood that he had needed it; to perhaps gain a semblance of independence and control that he had been robbed of for most of his life.

To be fair, she, too, had been a little more than bewildered at the intensity of the bond forged between the vampire and the siblings. She had first assumed it might have been because perhaps Enzo was a distant relative of sorts but that thought had been quickly shot down by her father.

 _"I told you, mi hija,"_ Her father had said once she shared her thoughts with him, _"Everyone from our family has the same eyes; there are no exceptions, no matter how distantly related. Enzo is not a member of our family, not that it matters, your bond has been made as such that you will not be able to differ him as anything else. He has been_ _ **claimed**_ _as family by the magic that flows within you and your hermano's veins. Hence, he is treated as such."_

She remembered inspecting her father carefully then, recalling his lack of surprise when she and Atticus had informed him of the bond they had made with a tortured vampire. _"You knew didn't you, Papa?"_ She had questioned him. _"Somehow, you_ _ **knew**_ _we would bond with a vampire; with Enzo."_

And the smile Ignacio Asturias had given her in return was both chilling and mischievous. _"I did,"_ He confirmed, _"Because I_ _ **saw**_ _it."_

And that had been the confirmation Zatanna had needed to assure herself that her father _did_ in fact have 'the sight' or perhaps a more apt description would be 'seer-like qualities'. It might also explain his reasons as to why they lived in Mystic Falls (she recalled the conversation he had with her mother –it was so long ago- which had led to moving to Mystic Falls; her mother had asked him about what he had 'seen').

But she had strayed in her thoughts; the period of coming and going for Enzo became less frequent overtime and (much to her and Atticus' joy) he was seen around their house a lot more (he would still go off for days on the end but he would _always_ return and that was enough); in some measure it was because trust was being developed and partially because her father now conducted therapy sessions with the vampire as well.

In fact her father had such sittings with her brother too –because it didn't take long for her to figure out Enzo had caused the evil doctor's death and Atticus was just as smart –if not more- as she was. But where she was _used_ to death (and wasn't that sad?), Atticus was not and had many conflicting emotions regarding Enzo's actions (not that he felt sad for the doctor's death but more so because it was Enzo who had done the deed or that it was the vampire's actions that had resulted in his death). Her father had immediately gathered as much and seen to having a talk with her brother.

This had resulted in a chain reaction where all three of them (i.e Zatanna, Atticus and Enzo) had scheduled routine talks with the Asturias patriarch.

It was hilarious actually.

"I'm letting them in." Atticus' voice snapped her out of her musings. "And then-" Her brother glowered at Enzo and their father. "-you handle them."

Enzo smirked, "Well, who told you to reveal it to them like that? Why didn't you prefer to tell the truth in a much more calm setting?"

"Hey, it was _her_ idea, not mine." Atticus pointed at her.

She scowled at him, "I didn't hear any objection from you. Besides, it seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Children," Their father turned a page of the newspaper, "Don't fight."

Zatanna huffed and watched her brother walk out of the living room all white muttering under his breath when the doorbell rang again.

The ensuing loud voices that emitted from the hallway of their entrance made her wince.

"And so it begins." The former Augustine-vampire remarked as each and every member of her (because, yes, they were most definitely hers, no matter how annoyed she might be at their horrible sense of timing) baby Scooby-gang.

 _"Cállate,_ Enzo. Please. I'm too tired." She grumbled.

"You're tired?" Elena's voice filtered through the living room and she sounded outraged. "I'm the one who stayed up all night because I _still_ don't know what a doppelgänger is!"

"You're the one who was asking ridiculous questions last night," Atticus rolled his eyes, _"Can you make me fly, Ace? Hey, can I join your cult and become a cool magic person too, Zee? Can you guys do some magic cheats during exams?"_ He mimicked in a high-pitched voice.

"Hey, we were adjusting." Elena defended.

"How did your talk with your mother go?" Zatanna changed the topic while turning to face the entire group of pubescent children (and wow, they were all here, such dedication).

The smile that found its way on Elena's face might as well have brightened the entire room and Zatanna couldn't help but forget about her irritation and found herself reciprocating Elena's infectious happiness.

"Really good, I take it?" Atticus commented softly, a smile on his face.

Elena nodded with great vigour, glancing back at Tyler who stood by her shoulder almost protectively (interesting). "I _love_ mom." She spoke in a voice that shook with emotion, her expression lacked the hysterical conflict and emotion that had been plaguing her incessantly the previous day.

"Good for you, _Seňorita."_ Her brother ruffled the brunette's hair.

"But, let's talk about that later, you need to answer our questions." Elena smacked at Atticus' hand.

"Yeah, like what's an un-triggered werewolf?" Tyler scowled.

"Also, how am I a witch? Is it cool?" Bonnie looked curious and excited, "I mean, duh, they're cool, cause you guys were really cool last night but can I do stuff like that?"

"Can you become a witch?" Caroline bounced on her feet.

"What else exists in the supernatural world?" Jeremy inquired, standing close to his sister.

"Why didn't we know about this before?" Matt fretted, still looking like he wanted to ignore the recently revealed revelations.

"Who's that?" Vicki pointed at Enzo.

A pause as the Asturias siblings blinked rapidly in an attempt to keep up with the questions.

The silence only broken by a low whistle from Enzo and an amused chuckle from their father.

"Well," Her father's deep voice made his Spanish accent sound more pronounced, "What a bright lot of children, you are."

Bonnie looked at the Asturias patriarch with wide hazel-green eyes, "No way, Uncle Ignacio, did you know about all of this?"

The Spaniard smiled kindly at the young Bennett –the young girl who was much like a niece to him, "Of course I do, _Seňorita Bonita,_ I'm a warlock myself."

"That's so cool!" Admiration shone in her eyes.

"Seriously?" Matt looked sick at the idea that an adult was confirming the admissions made.

Zatanna suddenly had a very petty urge to brag because, come on, her father was the coolest.

"Papa taught us everything we know," Zatanna informed her friends, a smug smirk thrown their way.

"And we still have much to learn," Atticus agreed. "Currently, dad is the strongest Asturias."

"Not necessarily true," The amused man interjected, "My brother –your uncle is a close second, perhaps my equal. The point is you never stop learning, especially as an Asturias; limitless possibilities, remember, _hijos míos?_ I do, however, know that both of you, precious children of mine, have the potential to surpass us with great ease."

.

.

.

"You have a _brother?!"_ Zatanna blurted out in disbelief.

"What the-" Atticus sputtered before reverting to Spanish, _"Papa! How could you_ _ **not**_ _tell us? A hermano?"_

"We have an _uncle?!"_ Zatanna continued to gape. " _Why_ didn't you tell us?"

Their father offered them a mischievous smirk. "You never asked."

Enzo snorted.

"Right, as amusing as it is to see you both lose your composure," Vicki smirked at the magical siblings. "I really don't care about it at the moment-"

"Vicki," Matt interjected. "Rude."

"-so can we please go back to answering our questions?"

And once more, Zatanna appreciated the brutally blunt aspect of Vicki Donovan's personality. She was still relatively stable and had a certain cunning in her eyes that Zatanna wanted to explore; to encourage. She wanted to give the two Donovans a purpose; something that gave their life meaning, something that didn't encourage one to turn to drugs and the other to be lost with his life decisions.

"Right, um…that's Enzo," Zatanna answered Vicki's previously asked question (the witch was still flustered, to be honest).

"He's a vampire." Atticus blurted.

There was a small moment of silence as everyone processed this newest piece of information; while Enzo blinked before sending a short glare in Atticus' direction.

"No. Way." Caroline was gaping, her mouth opening and closing like a fish; a comical sight it was.

Elena was making strange choked sounds as she starting violently punching at Tyler's arm, who was too stunned to react to her physical abuse. Matt looked dangerously close to fainting again while his older sister looked more interested then Zatanna had ever seen her, Jeremy just watched with surprising sharp eyes.

"That's so cool!" Bonnie gushed suddenly and flounced over to Enzo, who leaned back at the sudden intrusion of his personal space, "You're so cool," Bonnie decided, a bright smile on her face before she frowned and raised a brow sassily, "Show me your fangs, please."

"A brother," Atticus murmured to himself, sending a betrayed glance towards their father.

"Get over it, man." Tyler told him, patting his shoulder as the young Lockwood approached the vampire as well.

"You don't get over stuff like that." Atticus protested before turning to his sister. "How are you not shocked?"

"I'm astounded beyond measure," Zatanna intoned flatly, " _But_ I prefer not to think of it now, I'm compartmentalizing you could say."

Atticus gave her a droll look.

"Children." Their father warned, an annoyingly amused smirk on his face.

"Yes, thank you Mister A, clearly someone here knows that there are more important matters; like how that guy is a _vampire_." Caroline exclaimed in a shrill voice that had most of them wincing.

"You two annoy me." Enzo called out to the two magical siblings as all of the baby Scooby gang surrounded him.

"Show us your fangs please." Caroline suddenly did a one-eighty as her voice turned sweet and polite and a charming grin touched her lips.

"Are you not scared?" Enzo questioned looking genuinely interested in their answer.

"Nah," Jeremy smiled lazily, "If you wanted to hurt us then you would have done so already." He pointed out wisely.

"Besides," Tyler shrugged, "Ace and Zee trust you, so does Mister A. So that mean's your cool."

Enzo looked like he wanted to laugh while also tear his hair out. "Today's generation," He muttered to himself before offering the keen and bright-eyed children in front of him a half-smile (Zatanna thought that was a good sign), "Are you sure you want to see? It's not a very pretty sight and I already warn you to let go of all the romantic conceptions regarding vampires."

"Don't keep us hanging!" Elena exclaimed excitedly, half hanging over both Tyler and Jeremy's shoulder in an attempt to get a clearer glimpse of Enzo's face.

The former Augustine-vampire glanced at their father before returning his gaze back to the group of pubescent children and right before their eyes, his face morphed into those horrifically beautiful features found only in a vampire; His lips had parted to revealed his razor-sharp elongated canines; the veins surrounding his eyes had darkened and resembled black spider webbings and the sclera of his eyes had saturated with blood and were a dark and deep red in color.

"Okay, I kind of was not expecting that." Matt gave an uneasy smile.

"Intriguing though," Vicki moved closer to inspect Enzo's face.

Bonnie was simply fascinated and whirled around to look at her cousins witch excitement.

"Okay, this is cool!" She laughed, "And you said I'm a witch?"

"The entire Bennett family is." Zatanna informed, smiling fondly, glancing at Enzo through the corner of her eyes as he allowed his vampire features to recede. "It has a lot of details. You're a Bennett witch. We, on the other hand, are Asturias witches."

"Family Bloodlines." Jeremy guessed correctly, both he and Tyler turning to look at them.

"Right, and it needs a lot of explaining, _Seňorita Bonita,_ and it's a conversation for another day, preferably with _Seňora Bennett._ " The Spanish Lord interjected before his children could dive into the intricacies of being a witch.

"Oh." Bonnie looked disappointed.

"Please tell me what's a doppelgänger is." Elena asked taking a seat upon the large couch of the living room.

"It means you're a mirror image of someone else." Zatanna informed. "In the supernatural world, you are a rare occurrence and a sort of punishment to the person you originally look like."

"That's depressing." Elena deadpanned.

"Hush, don't interrupt. Now, your particular bloodline is known commonly as the Petrova lineage; you're a Petrova doppelgänger. A mirror image of three other known women."

Elena scowled. "I'm one of a kind, damn it. That sucks."

Zatanna sent a glare in Elena's direction. "Stop interrupting. The original woman you resemble; her name was Amara and she existed over two thousand years ago in Ancient Greece." By now everyone was listening with avid attention, "She was the handmaiden to a powerful witch called 'Qetsiyah'; who was by the way a distant ancestor of the Bennett bloodline," Here she glanced at Bonnie.

"Qetsiyah was betrothed to a handsome and powerful witch whom she loved very much; Silas and one thing led to another, Qetsiyah ended up making an immortality elixir that she intended for Silas and herself to drink at their wedding so they could spend an eternity together."

"But, like always, what followed was utter drama; turns out Silas loved Amara and stole the elixir and drank it together with Amara on Qetsiyah's wedding day. Enraged, Qetsiyah hunted them down, made a cure for the immortality elixir, dessicated Amara and then neutralized Silas, entombing him on a remote island."

"That's brings a whole new meaning to 'Hell hath no fury then that of a woman scorned'." Matt commented drily.

"Anyways," Zatanna continued, "She buried him with the single dosage of the cure she made and a choice, either take the cure and die or remain trapped and rot as an immortal being. Although Silas wanted to die so he could join Amara who he thought mistakenly was dead, he chose eternal life just to spite Qetsiyah."

"Qetsiyah was not satisfied. She knew that when Silas took the cure and die a mortal death he would find peace and be reunited with Amara in peaceful afterlife; she hated that thought. So she created an entire supernatural purgatory, where all supernatural creatures go to when they die. Its commonly known as 'The Other Side'. She bound the purgatory to Amara as she needed an eternal anchor to make sure the Other Side never collapsed."

"This further ensured that Silas and Amara would never be reunited; as, if Silas did succeed in dying he could never be reunited with Amara as she was the anchor to the purgatory. That had its own side-affects; Amara being the anchor was also the gateway to the purgatory. Meaning all deceased supernatural spirits had to pass through her to enter the Other Side. Unfortunately that meant Amara would feel the pain of the deaths of every deceased supernatural."

"Oh my god, Qetsiyah's psychotic." Elena screeched.

"Uh-huh, now, when Silas and Amara became immortal they violated nature's laws," Zatanna sounded mocking here, "So nature created doppelgänger's; mortal shadow-selves of Silas and Amara who could die in the place of their Immortal ancestors to retain nature's balance."

"Why do say it like that?" Bonnie frowned at the belittling tone her cousin had adopted when speaking of nature.

"All witches, except the Asturias, are bound to nature and have to follow the rules of nature and to keep the bloody balance; they are literally called 'Servants of Nature'," Atticus rolled his eyes, "Mother Nature is selfish. If she doesn't like the way her magic is being used then then she blocks the flow of her magic going to a certain witch or warlock."

"That sucks…" Bonnie scowled. "But wait, you said you weren't bound to nature? Then what are you guys, uh…'bound to'?"

"A conversation for another day." Zatanna smirked, "Now, where was I? Oh yes, the known doppelgängers after Amara were; Tatia Petrova and Katerina Petrova who was also known as 'Katherine Pierce'. Since the creation of a doppelgänger was a consequence of the use of nature's magic; their existence is supernatural and as such their blood can be used as a binding agent in powerful spells."

"That's what happened to Tatia; who was born a thousand years ago. At the time, she was a widow with a child and stuck in a love triangle with two brothers."

"I hate love triangles," Elena rolled her eyes. "What a slu-uhhh," Elena stumbled over her words suddenly aware of a rather bemused Ignacio and amused Enzo staring at her.

"Harlot?" Atticus offered helpfully, smiling sheepishly at the stern glance their father threw at him.

"Even your insults sound cool." Tyler chortled.

"Why don't you continue the lesson, _querida hermana?"_ Atticus smiled tightly, trying not to stare at their father's disapproving expression.

"Right, the names of the brothers were Niklaus and Elijah; they were part of the Mikaelson family. The father and head of the family was Mikael, the mother Esther, then seven children, from eldest to youngest they were; Freya, Finn, Elijah, Niklaus, Kol, Rebekah and Henrik. The mother was a witch and out of all her children only two had awakened their magical potential; Freya who supposedly died due to a plague in Europe -which caused them to voyage to the new world and settled in a small village which is now known as 'Mystic Falls'- and the second youngest son; Kol."

"Oh, that's awesome!" Jeremy laughed before frowning thoughtfully, "Hey that means that the whole founder's council is kinda fake."

"That's hilarious," Vicki smirked. "That means none of the family's actually found anything."

"It _is_ an arrogant notion," Their father agreed.

"And just you wait till I tell you the reality behind the Founder's council," Enzo grinned in a decidedly sadistic manner.

"What's the truth?" Matt asked, he and Caroline leaned forward, almost falling off their seats on the couch.

"They hunt vampires, hold up for a minute, sweetlings; I'm getting to it." Zatanna huffed out a laugh, "Anyways, the village they had settled in was inhabited by both witches and werewolves, apart from the humans of course; in fact the resident powerful witch there who had also become a mentor to Esther was called 'Ayana' and she is our maternal ancestor," Zatanna looked at Bonnie.

"Okay yeah," Tyler leaned forward, "You called me an un-triggered werewolf?"

Zatanna hesitated for a moment, "It's not pretty, Tyler," She admitted grimly, "This is a hereditary trait, a family inherited one."

"Wait, that means-"

"-You inherited the gene from one of your parents; in this case your father." Zatanna confirmed, "Being a werewolf, an un-triggered one means you have a horrible temper, one that gets worse as the full moon gets closer, you're naturally stronger too."

"How do you…," Tyler cleared his throat, "How do you trigger the curse?"

"By killing someone, be it accidental or not, intentional or not" Atticus explained. "Then its hell for the triggered werewolf every full moon. Their bones break and reset themselves following the transition from a human to wolf. It's _very_ painful."

Tyler had paled and looked close to crying, Elena grasped his hand in reassurance and stared at him through fierce brown eyes. "It won't happen, we'll be there for you. Don't worry."

As one, the rest of them gathered around Tyler in silent support.

"Yeah, don't worry, you have us at your side." Atticus grinned calmly.

"Even if you do trigger the curse, know that you have the Asturias as friends."

"I'm not going to _kill_ someone!" Tyler almost yelled.

"I'm not saying you are, but you never know what might happen." Zatanna assured soothingly, reaching forward to smooth back Tyler's hair in an almost maternal manner.

"Why don't you continue?" Enzo suggested after a moment of silence.

"Alright, since the men at those times were warriors, well… almost everyone in the village was a triggered werewolf, so every full moon the normal humans, witches and un-triggered werewolves hid in secured caves."

"But one night, Henrik the youngest brother and the most curious of them, convinced Niklaus to take him to see the werewolves. Unable to deny his littlest brother anything, he conceded."

"It didn't end well, did it?" Caroline bit her lip.

"No, Henrik was mauled to death." Zatanna shook her head. "In grief, Esther not wanting to lose any more of her children stole Ayana's grimoire and cast an altered version of the immortality spell Qetsiyah had used. She needed to use the doppelgänger's blood for it; which meant Tatia's. She first tested the spell upon her husband, but to become immortal he needed to die after drinking the spell potion. He came back alive and was more superior even to the werewolves in their village."

"That very night, she and Mikael laced their children's wines with the spell elixir and when they drank them, Mikael ran his children through their hearts with a sword." Zatanna paused at the shocked gasps that ensued.

Bonnie let out an outraged huff, "Mikael sounds horrible!"

"He was a cruel father," Atticus nodded. "He was Viking, _Sí? A_ nd well…he valued _strength_."

Matt scowled. "What a loser."

Zatanna grinned at him, "Back to the history lesson, so since they had taken the potion, the children woke up but they also needed to complete their transition to eternal life by drinking blood; Mikael force-fed his children the blood of a local villager and the children found themselves stronger and faster than ever before."

"Wait, you said they drank blood," Vicki looked more alert than ever, "Is this…A-are you telling us the origin story of _vampires?"_

"Clever girl," Enzo grinned, "To be fair, I didn't know all these clear details either. I have found, that the Asturias Family has very accurate historical records; not that I expected any less," _Their_ vampire sent them a teasing glance, "Bloody powerful lot, you are."

Zatanna would shamelessly admit that she preened under his praise.

"You know," Elena had an odd expression on her face, "Listening to your story…I forgot for a moment that it's _not_ a story. It's…Its real, isn't it? Everything you're telling us is the truth and the actual reality, these people; _they're_ real too. They actually exist."

Atticus had a sympathetic expression on his face, "I know it's all very confusing and extremely shocking. But yes, this is, all of it, nothing but the truth."

"And Enzo's right," Zatanna nodded to the vampire, "The Asturias have all the accurate records, nothing about the history we have documented is false. Our database is the only correct one that exists." And Zatanna was speaking the truth; even without her memories, every part of the events she was telling them had already been recorded by her family. "If you do hear anything else know it's false, this I can assure you of. No one other than our family has that knowledge nor do we prefer to share it."

"Why are you telling us, then?" Jeremy asked curiously.

At this, the Asturias family –and yes this included both Ignacio and Enzo- gave them a bemused look.

"Annoyingly," Zatanna huffed in slight exasperation, "You all have grown on me, and seeing most of you _are_ supernatural, I wouldn't wanting you to enter this world without having the right facts and knowledge."

Atticus nodded in agreement, "Let me tell you one thing very seriously; in the supernatural world, there is no such thing as ignorance is bliss; ignorance _will_ get you killed. Know this, Knowledge is always power."

The children in front of them looked overwhelmed and Zatanna nudged Atticus, sending him an annoyed scowl, he blinked before shrugging guiltily.

"Continue love," Enzo interjected.

"Right, but after their transition into vampires, it was discovered that their vampirism had its own drawbacks; Their mother had called upon the sun for life and as a side-affect the sun burned them, it wasn't until their mother enchanted lapis lazuli rings for them that helped them walk in the sun, unharmed."

"They are called 'Daylight rings' commonly," Enzo piped in helpfully, "It can be any jewelry, really, but it _must_ have an enchanted lapis lazuli stone. That's the important bit."

"Do you have one?" Caroline asked.

Enzo smirked and nodded at Zatanna and Atticus, "They made me one," And the he presented the platinum band placed around the forefinger of his right hand; it had a lapis lazuli inlay and was more subtle and stylish than the obvious and gaudy jewelry vampires usually wore. "Fun fact; not many vampires have the privilege to own a piece of daylight jewelry and those that do, have horribly large and blatantly obvious pieces. So if you are all observant enough, you would notice and instantly recognize a vampire through that."

"Why _don't_ the vampires have daylight jewelry?" Tyler spoke up, his brows furrowed downwards.

"Usually they need witches to cast the spell, and since each of them are servants of natures, except the Asturias, well… they hate vampires." Zatanna explained.

"Why?"

"I'm getting to it, patience _querida_ ," She rolled her eyes, "Anyways, they discovered that they could not enter the homes of their neighbours without an invitation. They were also burned by the vervain flowers that grew at the base of the great white oak tree that Esther had called upon for immortality. Also, since they were literally the living dead; they could not age nor could they have children of their own."

"The worst of their side effects was the _sheer_ bloodlust they experienced, since blood was used in their transition; blood was needed to keep them strong. They also discovered that the wood of that particular white oak tree could be used to kill them if it was driven through their hearts. So they burned the tree and became truly indestructible."

"Their bloodlust also led to them losing control; Elijah lost himself to the more primal, predatory part of himself and ended up accidently killed Tatia; draining her of blood. Hysterical at his own actions Elijah took her to his mother hoping she could save Tatia; but she was already dead. Esther seeing the guilt that threatened to consume her son, used a spell to repress his memory of the event. Meanwhile, Niklaus, too, had made his first kill but when he did, it revealed Esther's deepest, darkest secret."

"Niklaus was the illegitimate child of Esther and a werewolf leader; Ansel. After Freya's supposed death-"

"Why do you say it like that?" Vicki asked.

Zatanna almost smirked approvingly, "Because Freya didn't really die, Esther had been infertile and could not have a child but she begged for help from her older sister, who, herself, dabbled in nature's dark magic; which by the way isn't really dark magic, it's just the magic that is very hard to control provided by nature, a rather consuming branch of magic for servants of nature. Anyways, her sister, Dahlia, cast a spell that resulted in Esther being able to bear children, but in return every first born child of Esther's bloodline would have be given up."

"Dahlia took away Freya, didn't she?" Caroline realized.

"Yes and Mikael didn't know because Esther lied and told him their daughter had passed away because of the plague. This caused them to leave Europe but also resulted in Mikael growing cold and distant with his wife; it was during this time that Esther started her affair with Ansel and gave birth to his son, but passed him of as Mikael's son when she saw that her pregnancy had made them grow closer again. She forbid Ansel from coming near his son and in fear that Niklaus might one day activate his werewolf side, she made an amulet which made Niklaus physically very weak."

"That resulted in Niklaus being the frequent object of Mikael's fury and like I said, Mikael became very cold after Freya's abduction and abusive towards the rest of his children. Anyways, after seeing Niklaus transform into a wolf, Mikael came to the realization that he was not his son and was _furious_ with his wife and turned his hatred towards Niklaus. Esther, in her shame, used the remaining blood from Tatia's body and cast a curse that bound Niklaus' werewolf side, she used a moonstone as the container of the spell."

"Betrayed by his Mother and unable to deal with his heightened emotions; because becoming a vampire results in _really_ heightened emotions; in his fury, Niklaus killed his mother, realizing what he did and fearful of his siblings' reactions, he blamed it on their father. Since then, Mikael has spent his time hunting his abomination children; in particular Niklaus who started using a moniker of his name 'Klaus'."

"And this was how the Original Vampires were made; they are truly indestructible; while the sun does burn them, they cannot die as opposed to a normal vampire who would immediately burn to death."

"A werewolf's bite is fatal to a normal vampire, but the original while experiencing fevers and hallucinations for a few days' time period will eventually heal, Instead of dying by being run through the heart by a wooden stake as a normal werewolf would, they would be desiccated for a few hours at most before reviving; the only wooden stake that can kill them is that made of the white oak tree they burned down. They literally are the _Originals_ and basically the royals of the entire vampire race. They do not have the weaknesses normal vampires do."

"In fact, all other vampires are descended from either one of the siblings." Zatanna completed.

"How does that work?"

"Well, someone can turn into a vampire by consuming the blood of a vampire and then killing themselves or if the die while the blood is still present in their systems; then after waking up, they are in transition and can only fully become vampires by consuming blood." Atticus explained.

"And since they were the first vampires, all other vampires must be part of their bloodlines." Vicki realized.

"Wait, wait, what about Silas and Amara; weren't they vampires, too?" Bonnie looked confused.

"Not at all," It was her father who spoke this time, he casually shifted his stance so he was leaning forward in his seat, his elbows balanced on top of his knees, and his eyes gleamed dark; resembling a raging storm, "You see, Amara and Silas were true immortals, Silas could use his magic when he turned immortal. However, when a witch turns into a _vampire_ they lose their connection to nature; that's why they are regarded as abominations of nature, they disrupt the balance of nature. That's why most servants of nature abhor vampires."

"Okay, I seriously do not like the sound of being a witch who's bound to nature." Bonnie scowled.

"Yeah," Elena agreed. "Besides, being prejudiced against vampire? That sounds racist…uh…specie-ist…specie-racist?"

The rest of them nodded in agreement.

"I _adore_ each and every one of you," Zatanna gleefully exclaimed.

This, right here, showed that while she probably should not have revealed the supernatural aspect of the world in the way she did, she also made the right call. The children in front of her were innocent in their thinking; but not in a naïve way, simply in a pure manner. The current reactions also showed the differences she had made here, the children were open in their thinking but not stupid. And she just felt _so_ proud of each and every one of them.

"You are the _oddest_ group of people I have ever met." Enzo looked torn between laughing and bolting.

Caroline gasped, "Don't tell me people are racist to you too!"

"Don't worry, Enzo," Jeremy nodded sagely, his unruly locks falling over his forehead. "We won't let that happen, I mean, so what if you're a vampire? Every person is capable of making their choices and that's what defines them."

"Yeah," Bonnie nodded. "I promise I won't be racist. I'll only be judgy if the person makes wrong and stupid decisions."

"In fact," Matt looked excited, "We can be the official protectors of the supernatural creature treated unfairly and uh…advocates for the uh… rights of supernatural creatures." He then looked at Vicki to see if he got it right.

"I'm done," Enzo got up from his seat and walked towards the kitchen, "Who here likes lasagna? It should be done in another fifteen minutes." His abrupt change of the topic showed his own overwhelmed deposition at the easy acceptance showed towards him.

He nodded at the calls of approval and disappeared out of sight upon entering the kitchen.

"Okay, so what happened next?" Tyler leaned forward in his seat.

"Yeah, what happened to Klaus and what about that other doppelgänger, Katerina?" Elena looked eager for answers.

Now, Zatanna hesitated. She wasn't sure if she should tell this part of the story just yet; it would mean revealing the importance of the doppelgänger to Klaus and as well as each of them had taken these new revelations in a stride, she was also aware of how Elena had just the previous night learned of an earth-shattering discovery that she was adopted; to know that Klaus was after her, well... that might lead to a complete emotional break-down.

It seemed her father was already ahead of her as he said in a clear voice, laced with authority; "The rest of the story will be told tomorrow," He said firmly, with an expression that quieted any objections before they arose, "Everything about Katerina, her connection to the originals and then her arrival here in Mystic Falls back in the late 19th century. We'll tell you about the Asturias after Bonnie has had her conversation with her _abuela._ For now, let's wait for lunch."

The pubescent children nodded hesitantly, although Elena and Tyler looked suddenly uneasy.

"Hey, don't worry." Atticus attempted to reassure. "You've got us, remember?

Tyler gave a weak smile at that.

"Also," Here Atticus turned to their father, "Can we _please_ go through the family tree?"

Zatanna understood his frustration, ever since the previous year and their encounter with Seňor Henry; the two siblings had been begging their father to get access to the large book of their magically self-updating family tree. Their father had only smirked insufferably and denied them access; for no apparent reason (but knowing him, there probably was one).

"You may." Ignacio nodded.

"But-" Atticus began to protest before pausing and staring at the man with a dumbfounded expression. "What?"

Their father gave him an unimpressed look, "I wasn't aware you were hard of hearing, _mi hijo._ Now, the book is only my study table, go fetch it from my office."

Zatanna blinked, "Wait a minute, you're telling me that sleek, huge, black covered book is the record of our family tree and it was lying on your desk –in plain sight, might I add, this whole time?"

"I was hoping you were observant enough to notice." He gave them a –and she was not joking- shit-eating grin.

"Papa," Atticus groaned before slipping out of the living room to fetch the thick book.

"You are very amusing to watch." Caroline smirked suddenly.

"Glad we could entertain you." Sarcasm _oozed_ from Zatanna's tone.

Caroline was prevented from replying when Atticus returned with the book that was as large as his entire torso and twice as thick.

"You know," He grunted, "When I imagined the family records, I imagined an old and ancient book."

"I know right?" Zatanna waved at her brother animatedly.

"As if we would keep our family records in such a poor condition." Their father scoffed.

Atticus placed the book on the wooden table placed in between their living room, across the couch. He huffed, before sitting on the rugged floor and hefting the book open, flipping to the page that had a book mark in it.

The rest of the gang surrounded them and watched in fascination as the words on the large page darkened and aligned themselves in a certain order.

They first read through the names and titles written at the bottom of the page;

 **His Lordship,** ** _Don_** _Atticus Tomás de Asturias y Bennett._

 **Her Ladyship,** ** _Doña_** _Zatanna Elvira de Asturias y Bennett._

Both names were connected with a branch that signified their relationship as siblings.

"Woah, I'm taking that's some Spanish way to write your names?" Matt blinked.

Tyler leaned over Jeremy's shoulder for a clearer view, "I keep forgetting you guys are 'nobles'." He air-quoted nobles.

"Wait, but isn't your name Bennett-Asturias? Why is there Asturias before Bennett here?" Jeremy shoved Tyler away, his mouth twisting in irritation.

"Technically," Atticus began, "And legally our last name _is_ Asturias-Bennett, in Spanish naming traditions; the fathers name comes before the mothers –well at least till recently where they made a law that it can be the other way around, but that wasn't the case when we were born. _Also_ the women aren't really obligated to take their husband's name upon marriage. Anyways, there was a miss-type on our birth certificates where they put Bennett before Asturias, Papa got it corrected in the civil registry and birth certificate but Mama liked how Bennett-Asturias sounded so it kind of stuck." There was a fond smile on her brother's face. A bittersweet one.

"Oh, so legally, the name on your family tree is your real one?" Caroline clarified, her blue eyes bright and just so _blue_.

"Yes," Atticus said drily. "Indeed, how observant you are, _Seňorita Forbes."_

Caroline sassily raised an eyebrow at him but Zatanna shoving them both had their attentions returning to the open page.

Above their names were both their parent's names:

 **His Lordship** ** _, Don_** _Ignacio Àlvaro de Asturias y Voclain._

 ** _Seňora_** _Pauline Rosalie Bennett._

The two names were connected with a marriage branch and connecting the marriage branch between them and the sibling branch between Atticus and Zatanna was a single vertical line signifying their status as parents and children.

Connecting with their father's name was a sibling branch leading to a male name:

 **His Lordship,** ** _Don_** _Lázaro Vicente de Asturias y Voclain._

 _"_ _Tío Lázaro."_ Zatanna murmured under her breath before aiming her father with a betrayed expression, "How could you _not_ tell us?"

"I'm your father," His lips twisted into a semblance of a smile, "I can do anything I desire."

At that, both his children stumbled over their words trying to form a response.

"Wait, wait, why does your father only use one last name and you guys two?" Elena asked.

"It's a choice, we can, for vocal use, pick one of our parents name –usually the fathers or both of them for normal everyday usage. Seriously, it's not that big of a deal." Zatanna muttered, her attention returning to the page where connected to the brother's names were those of their paternal grandparents:

 **His Lordship** ** _, Don_** _Fabián Èric de Asturias y Azarola._

 ** _Seňora_** _Clarisse Estelle Voclain._

And each name had a date of birth written beneath it (but curiously enough, there was no date of death for anyone other then their mother and grandmother, Zatanna decided she was _not_ going to think about it).

And then as if suddenly coming to a simultaneous realization; both siblings turned to themselves and spoke in unison:

 _"_ _Seňor Henry."_

Their father grinned mischievously as his amusement flooded through his aura and Enzo walked out of the kitchen, his eyes dark yet warm seemed suddenly guarded.

Atticus sent a wave of calm towards the agitated vampire through their bond and Zatanna was quick to smile at him in a reassuring manner.

"Who's Seňor Henry?" Vicki's jade-green eyes gleamed with her thirst of knowledge.

"That's what we're trying to figure out." Atticus flipped through the pages of the book.

"He was born on 9th August, 1387," Their father piped in helpfully.

Zatanna paused and leveled her father with a half-suspicious stare, he looked much like a cat who ate the canary; she recalled that when they had described the events leading up to them finding Enzo in the mad doctor's office, their father was especially intrigued at the mention of 'Seňor Henry'.

When they had described his physical appearance and way of speaking, there father had been stunned; he had obviously recognized exactly which Henry they were talking about (and refused to tell them about him) and had regarded them with a stunned yet proud gaze.

"Found it!" Atticus crowed triumphantly before staring at the page as if he couldn't quite believe his eyes.

Zatanna almost shoved her brother away in her curiosity and was vaguely aware of Enzo leaning over the bowed heads of the children and inspecting the page with her.

 **His Highness,** ** _Seňor_** _Enrique Plantagenet de Asturias; Rey de Inglaterra y de Francia, Seňor de Irlanda._

"Fuck off," Zatanna breathed in shock.

"Zatanna," The disapproval on her father's face was the least of her concerns.

"Uh, I don't understand what's written." Tyler pointed out the obvious and as if a reply to their question the book translated the words for them:

 ** _Seňor_** _Enrique Plantagenet de Asturias; Rey de Inglaterra y de Francia, Seňor de Irlanda;_

 ** _Sir_** _Henry Plantagenet of Asturias; King of England and of France, Lord of Ireland._

"Oh hell no!" Vicki gaped. "No. Way. You're related to King Henry the fifth of England?!"

Zatanna's eyes swept upwards to look at who exactly his parents were because historically it was King Henry IV and Mary de Bohun; she observed that his father was indeed the same as recorded in history but his mother was entirely different;

 ** _Doña_** _Beatriz de Asturias._

"Lady Beatrice of Asturias." Atticus translated for the benefit of the others before turning almost violently towards their father **.** "How?"

Ignacio Asturias tilted his head and his smirk was less humorous and more fierce; he was almost baring his teeth in a distinctly wolfish grin.

"Sometimes the history that was recorded is inaccurate." He pointed out the obvious. "Strange, isn't it? To find that you both are the direct descendants of the great king of England?"

" _Direct_ descendent?" Zatanna repeated abruptly, a shrill tone added to her voice. " _How?_ And what about Mary de Bohun?"

"Henry IV had an inconsistent relationship with his first cousin, Richard II. They did _not_ get along much…As you know, Henry IV participated in Lords Appellant rebellion against Richard II." Their father began to explain, "This began from September 1386 and it is a commonly known fact among the Asturias that Henry wished to seize the throne from his cousin in this event. But to ensure his dynasty, Henry needed to have a male heir; he and his wife; Mary de Bohun had already lost their newborn son; Edward in 1382 after which his wife had not conceived a child for some years. So, dreading her infertility, Henry turned his sights to find a mistress; the exotic Spanish noble-woman who was visiting England."

"Beatriz de Asturias was a formidable witch, but even she could not have expected what happened next. Henry did not make his interest in her known; and struck unaware, Beatriz found herself drugged and forced upon. This event occurred in the late months of 1386 and Beatriz soon realized she was with child, it was some time after this that Henry discovered that his wife Mary, too, was pregnant."

"But he had already been warned by his physician that there would be complications during the entire term of the pregnancy for his wife. Beatriz, although burning with hatred for the man who forced himself upon her, welcomed the child that resulted from it and led a healthy pregnancy. Mary, on the other hand, was often unwell and it became apparent when she went into labour much earlier than expected. In fact, it was just a month prior that Beatriz, herself, had given birth to a child whom she named Enrique for her dearest older brother."

"Mary lost her child during this event but she was not aware of this fact as she had fallen into a temporary coma. Henry IV saw this as the perfect opportunity; he had already sired a healthy and strong son with Beatriz and since Mary was not aware of their stillborn son, he could pass the child he had with Beatriz as his and Mary's and therefore a legitimate son."

"Woah, this guy was both disgusting and a schemer of the highest level. _What_ even?" Tyler shuddered.

"What's forced upon mean?" Jeremy asked, looking utterly clueless. "And I'm confused, how does that result in having a baby?"

There was a pause as both Zatanna and Atticus turned to their father; horror flooding their faces. Elena, Tyler and Caroline had paled. But Bonnie and Matt looked as confused as Jeremy, upon seeing Matt's confusion, Vicki's expression morphed into a murderous one (which she aimed at them; and wow, Zatanna did _not_ know how protective she was of her little brother).

Enzo had turned away to snigger to himself and Zatanna could _feel_ his amusement; bloody prat.

Both she and Atticus looked at their father hoping he would handle the situation, instead they found him smiling undisturbed, "Alright, who wants to know how babies are made?"

A pause.

 _"Papa!"_ Came Atticus' scandalized exclamation.

Enzo collapsed upon the couch, tears of mirth escaping through the corner of his eyes.

"Woah, no," Elena panicked, "Come on, Mister A!"

"I jest," He smiled disturbingly, "Well…mostly. How about we compel them not to ask any questions, forget about being curious to the mechanism leading to the conceiving of a child and just accept this historical account?"

"What's 'Compel'?" Caroline frowned.

"Vampire mind-control." Enzo said in a croaking voice as he wiped away his tears, "I have to look straight in your eyes and then I can make you do whatever I want, however, witches or warlocks cannot be compelled. So, Miss Bennett will simply have to discard this conversation from her mind."

"That's disturbing…" Matt looked wary and Vicki moved closer to him turning her glare towards the vampire.

"Yeah, I don't like the idea of mind-control without my consent." Jeremy looked anxious as well "Besides I wanna know how babies are made."

"No, you don't." Elena flapped her hands, "You really don't!"

"How about I make it that you're aware I'm compelling you but not what I've compelled you about; only that it's nothing you need to worry about, and I'm not doing it without you knowing, now am I?" Enzo offered, his jet-black hair reflecting the light coming through the window and suddenly seemed a lighter shade.

"But why can't we know how babies are made?" Bonnie asked, genuinely curious.

"Also, that's disturbingly detailed." Atticus piped in, sending Enzo a weird glance.

"It's one of those things that you need to know when you're older." Ignacio said firmly, in a tone that demanded no arguments.

"You can trust Enzo," Zatanna assured them, a lazy smirk lighting her own features.

"Fine, but only after you tell us the rest of the story." Jeremy compromised.

Their father nodded and continued, "Beatriz, of course, was quite against this. Enrique or Henry as Henry IV had taken to calling him was _her_ son and she still hated the man who had taken her virtue. So, she threatened him; she said she would tell his wife the truth and Henry, in return, threatened to silence her permanently but she was an Asturias, so she was not swayed at all."

"She did not reveal her heritage as a witch since that would lead to more problems but she also did not show any weakness. A certain circumstance did, however, lead to the Spanish witch giving in to Henry; Beatriz was an Asturias who held 'the sight' and she saw the greatness her son was destined for, but he had to be his father's son for it. And with great difficulty, she conceded to Henry IV's demands but only on the condition that she would adopt the guise of her son's wet-nurse and governess. She was determined to be involved in her son's life, no matter what the cost."

"And so Henry killed the mid-wives and physician who were involved in the delivery of his still-born child and proclaimed that his wife had given birth to a son named 'Henry'. However, as it was, his wife was very close to death; to make sure Henry did not return his sights towards her again, Beatriz healed Mary in the secret of the night along with rectifying her problems with conceiving."

"And so Mary woke up; healthier and bright-eyed than ever before and it was said to be a miracle, she would later lead to bear her husband five more healthy children. Henry was, of course, satisfied. He had his wife, beautiful and stronger than ever before, his heir; the child who's keen eyes –much like his Spanish mother's- portrayed his power and might, he had the rest of his children; who secured his lineage and he had his throne; which he would soon gain."

"And Beatriz? She had her son. The boy who would grow to be one of the greatest –if not _the_ greatest- kings England has ever witnessed; a boy who knew the truth of his heritage and _adored_ his birth mother beyond measure." Ignacio completed, his deep tenor captivating and his eyes, blazing.

"That still doesn't explain how you're his direct descendants." Jeremy pointed out.

Atticus blinked, "He's right, you know?" He agreed.

"Yeah and wait a second," Zatanna stared back down at the family tree where Henry V was joined by a marriage branch with Catherine of Valois but it clearly stated they did not have a child together. In fact, Henry was joined in marriage to another woman;

 ** _Doňa_** _Constanza de Asturias._

"A very distant cousin of his," Her father explained. "She was his bonded other half. And the two had only one child together; a son, we are descended from him."

"What about Henry the sixth?" Vicki frowned. "So, he wasn't Henry the fifth's son?"

"Catherine of Valois had her own secrets; Henry the sixth was her illegitimate son with Owen Tudor whom she later on married; her son was passed as Henry V's son but he was not, in fact, Henry V's son because he didn't have the Asturias eyes." Ignacio leaned back in his chair.

"Oh," Zatanna breathed in realization, because wow, and damn; this was utterly mind-fucking.

"Huh?" Tyler uttered confused.

"Later," Atticus waved his hand dismissively.

"But didn't Henry V die?" Caroline asked, "How could he marry someone else, if his wife was still alive or if he died?"

"He didn't die, but he didn't return to England either so everyone assumed he had died of the illness eh was rumoured to have caught; which is why Catherine of Valois remarried -she did not know her husband was alive. And he, himself, didn't remarry until after his estranged wife's death in 1437. In fact he didn't really meet Constanza till late 1436."

A moment of thoughtful silence before Tyler leaned back in his chair.

"That was one heck of a lesson," He whistled, "You guys are so lucky to be related to a king."

Zatanna almost scoffed because the one thing nagging her brain was; how was Henry V Plantagenet of Asturias still alive? And why did their father reveal his truth and show them the family tree _now?_ After begging the entire previous year for the family records.

It was almost as if her father read her mind as he said; "It was not my story or truth to tell. Not yet anyway." He murmured but she heard him loud and clear.

 _"How did you know it was time?"_ Atticus asked in their native language.

 _"You could say Henry spoke to me."_ He had a humorous smirk on his face, but his eyes glinted like steel; hard and unrelenting.

A pause.

 _"You said all Asturias feel a family bond amongst themselves, we really didn't feel anything when we met him."_ Atticus remarked quietly and Zatanna turned her head to hear their father's answer as well.

The man before them regarded them with shrewd eyes and an approving smile, _"That's not quite true is it? You felt he was familiar, someone you knew. The distant the relative, the more subdued the bond you feel is. It's there but not in the same magnitude as the connections you have with your immediate family members. If you spend more time with him, you will find the magical bond growing stronger as well."_

Another pause followed; this one suddenly very fragile and Zatanna was almost terrified of asking what plagued her mind but not one to cower she went ahead and questioned;

 _"How is he still alive? I know he's not a vampire."_ She was unsure if she wanted to hear her father's reply or not.

"A story for another day, _hijos míos."_ The powerful warlock before them announced.

"Ok, that's creepy," Vicki's voice pulled the Asturias siblings from their reverie and they turned, noting Enzo walking away from Bonnie, Matt and Jeremy.

"You guys don't remember what you wanted to know?" Caroline asked, her sunny locks swaying with her wild movements.

Matt frowned, "It's weird, I _know_ I've been compelled. But I don't know what I've been compelled to do." Everyone looked confused at the end of his pseudo-explanation.

"How do you prevent it?" Vicki asked again before frowning thoughtfully, " _Can_ you prevent it?"

"By ingesting or wearing vervain." Atticus offered helpfully.

"Do warn me if you intend to wear it," Enzo called from the kitchen, "I would very much not like to be burned accidentally, that herb feels like acid, I promise you."

Matt grimaced at the mental image.

Ignacio clapping his hands had everyone turning their attention towards him.

"Now," He began, "After the rest of the tale has been told to each of you –which might take another two days I suspect- I expect you all to come here, every Friday, for a therapy session."

"Woah, is it that bad?" Elena looked anxious again.

"Oh yes, certainly." The man replied pleasantly.

"Papa." Zatanna deadpanned, "Seriously?"

"Honesty, child of mine, honesty. Besides, I find myself enjoying psychoanalyzing each and every one of you."

Atticus and Tyler snorted simultaneously.

"Psychoanalyzing can wait," Enzo remarked casually as he poked his head out of the kitchen (she wanted to laugh her arse off), "Right now it's time for lasagna."

"I love your priorities," Tyler grinned before pushing Elena into Jeremy and racing off to the kitchen. "Dibs on the first helping."

"Ugh, Tyler, you jerk!" Elena cried out, pushing away from her brother who fell into Matt as a result, "No fair!"

And as chaos ensued, Zatanna found, she wouldn't have it any other way.

* * *

 **Additional Information:** All usage of historical accounts and the changes made to them are purely for the usage of this story. Also, the information about the TVD world explained in this chapter is taken from Wikia.

'Bonita' is basically the Spanish, Portuguese variant of the Scottish name 'Bonnie'. Both names have the same meaning; 'Pretty, cute, attractive.'

Regarding the noble title given to Ignacio Asturias; the title itself is real i.e 'Seňor of Lazcano; Lord of Lazcano' is a real title but it's usage in this story is entirely fictional. As far as I'm aware, in real life this title belongs to the Ducal House of el Infantado.

 **Edit:** Credits to the guest reviewer for clarifying who the title of Lazcano belongs to in real life.

Date of Births:

Ignacio Asturias: 12th May, 1968.

Pauline Bennett: 1st January, 1969.

Atticus Bennett-Asturias: 7th August, 1990.

Zatanna Bennett-Asturias: 31st October, 1992.

All other birthdays of canon characters are as have been listed according to Wikia, with the only exception being those who's birthdays have not been given, of which I shall take liberty of giving them specific dates of birth myself.

* * *

 **A/N:** Okay, first off; I'm _so_ sorry for this ungodly delay in updating. But I kid you not when I say, I've been working on this chapter for the past five weeks. It's also the longest I've ever written and my hands hurting from typing but I guess, I owed it to you guys for your patience.

Also, there's going to be one more chapter after this one before we finally get to the start of TVD. _Soo,_ that means pilot episode (well, AU of pilot episode) will be Chapter VIII. So, something to look forward to guys. Yay.

Also, also, Who here just _loves_ Robb Stark? And Oberyn Martell? And Elia Martell? I _love_ these three, damn it! They deserved so much better ;-;.

Anyways, thank you for all views, follows, favorites and reviews.

I'd like to thank; **AlianaGabriellaWinchester7, daria081, Believer91, Lloryn, PersephoneTheQueen, Kristina'sMyName** (You're awesome, babe), **kelsi106, marlastiano, crazed828, DevilSurvivor, AyonSage, keikei313, PrincessMagic, scythe195, Guest#1** (I love how you just aptly described Zatanna), **LPWomer, Harrypotterwannabe00, Sadia140230, IsraAl'Attia-Theron, Isabelnecessaryonabicycle, Twister60, Larry, Guest#2, Dancing to your Heartbeat, ShyViscious, Daughter of Trickery, WriterMae, yanaven26, Guest#3** (Thank you for your clarification ;D), **Seven Dead Men Walking** and **Pheonix Labonair** for leaving you're reviews and as always, that's what made me drag myself of my arse and write this bloody chapter.

Again, would also like to thank **sydneyswansafl** and **Insanity-Red** for adding this story in their respective communities; **sydneys favs** and **Insanity-Red's Library of Favorites.** Thank you so much.

Before I leave, would also like to inform you guys that I've tried editing the previous chapters; spelling mistakes and such, nothing major. You don't have to re-read it if you don't want to; the only thing I did change was the family business of the Asturias: so instead of owning a Multi-National Wine Company they now own a Multi-Billionaire Real Estate Company.

Like/Favorite and Review/Comment, please. I respond to all reviews via PM.

* * *

 **Translations:**

 ** _Seňorita Bonita:_** _Miss Bonita._

 ** _Querida Prima:_** _Dearest/Dear Cousin or Cousin Dear/Dearest._

 ** _Seňora Gilbert:_** _Madam/ Mrs. Gilbert._

 ** _Seňor Gilbert:_** _Mr. Gilbert._

 ** _Seňora Miranda:_** _Madam Miranda._

 ** _Querida:_** _Dearest._

 _ **Querida Hermana:** Dearest/Dear Sister or Sister Dear/Dearest._

 _ **Mi hija:** My daughter._

 ** _Hermano:_** _Brother._

 ** _Cállate:_** _Shut up._

 ** _Seňorita:_** _Miss._

 ** _ _Hijos míos:__** _ _My children.__

 _ ** _Seňora Bennett:_** _Madam Bennett.__

 ** _ _ _Sí:___** _ _ _Yes.___

 ** _ _ _Abuela:___** _ _ _Grandmother.___

 ** _ _ _Mi hijo:___** _ _ _My son.___

 _ _ ** _Seňorita Forbes:_** _Miss Forbes.___

 ** _ _ _ _Tío Lázaro:____** _ _ _ _Uncle____ _Lázaro._

 ** _Seňor Henry:_** _Sir Henry._

 **Note:** All translations were taken with the help of Google. If there are any mistakes, I would like to apologize as I do not know how to speak the language.

* * *

 _"Mors nobis favet; Death favors us."_

 ** _-The Asturias Family Motto-_**

* * *

 **Disclaimer** : This is a work of fanfiction; I do not claim any ownership over any characters, situations or anything of relation from the TVD world. I do, however, own the Asturias Family, anything related to them, any other Original-Character introduced and the plot of this particular story.


	9. Chapter VII:

**Warnings:** Language, PTSD, Death, Violence, Morbid jokes and Dark humor that might offend others e.g. jokes on contemplation of suicide, these are just used to describe the rather morbid sense of humor the character/s may have and are in no means used to offend anyone or make light of the serious topics that may be mentioned. For any sensitive topic used in a joke, I apologize in advance and hope you keep in mind I meant no offense.

 **Note:** The dialogues in Italic show that the speakers are either a form of flashbacks or communicating in a different language, in this case spanish.

* * *

 **Therapy: Definition: _(Noun) 1. Treatment intended to relieve or heal a disorder. 2. The treatment of mental or psychological disorders by psychological means._**

 **_'Sometimes it takes dealing with a disability–the trauma, the relearning, the months of rehabilitation therapy–to uncover our true abilities, and how we can put them to work for us in ways we may have never imagined.'_**

 **-Tammy Duckworth-**

 ** _'~Give me a therapy, I'm a walking travesty, But I'm smiling at everything, Therapy, You were never a friend to me, And you can keep all your misery.~'_**

 **-Therapy; All Time Low-**

* * *

 **Chapter VII:**

 ** _25th June, 2004; Asturias Household, Mystic Falls; Virginia, United States of America._**

Elena sobbed.

Admittedly, Zatanna grimaced at the sheer panicked expression painting the doppelgänger's face, this was a reaction she had been anticipating.

"Oh god, oh god. Nononononononono," The doppelgänger blubbered, her hands fisted in her dark hair and she slumped down on the large, slate grey colored couch in their living room.

The rest of the baby Scooby gang were scattered around the room looking just as stricken as Elena felt; Tyler and Jeremy had claimed the seats on either side of Elena's on the couch, Bonnie sat on the rug covered wooden floor with Atticus, Matt had taken to pacing in front of the couch and both Enzo and her father were, once more, seated on the charcoal arm chairs on either side of the ornate fire place.

Zatanna, herself, was sitting on one of the pair of one-seater sofas by the right of the couch with Caroline squeezed in next to her and both faced Vicki, who was curled up on the sofa opposite of them, at the left of the couch.

No one quite knew what to do as Elena cried earnestly and Zatanna bit her lip, regretting telling her about Katerina and the importance of the doppelgänger to Klaus.

Her father, however, had no such reservations as he calmly stood up from his seated position with all the grace of a prowling feline; his movements sleek and confident (she aspired to have such mastery and control over her body) as he approached the crying doppelgänger.

With an unreadable expression but _soft_ eyes he crouched in front of Elena, reached out and brought her in the warm cocoon of his arms.

He murmured gently in her ear but it only seemed to make the crying brunette sob harder, hiccuping and gasping she had buried her face in Ignacio's chest and had her hands fisted desperately in his shirt.

"I…I'm g-going to _die!"_ She wailed in a hoarse voice and Zatanna's heart broke.

"No, you're not, _Seňorita,_ this I swear to you on my name as an Asturias." Her father whispered solemnly to the crying girl, smoothing back her hair and rubbing calming circles on her back.

Zatanna pushed away the sudden irrational (and stupid) jealousy that arose because she knew how comforting her father's hugs could be; his _proper and special_ hugs, that is.

His hugs were rare and his _true_ ones rarer still.

He did not give them often and if he did they were short, lasting a few mere seconds. But sometimes, he would give these long and fierce hugs and the person on the receiving end would feel as if all was right in the world. As if nothing was wrong while they were wrapped in her father's warm, comforting and (typically with his family) loving embrace.

"We're going for a drive," Her father announced, standing tall and already ushering the young brunette out of the living room, he sent a brief glance in Enzo's direction before sweeping his eyes over the rest of the shaken children, "I promise you," He spoke somberly, his eyes; nothing short of resembling a raging storm. Both eyes, somehow, seemed comforting as they –just for a moment- seemed to glow luminously, "No harm will befall on any of you."

Caroline and Bonnie were crying silently and while her cousin was being comforted by Atticus, Zatanna had taken to wrapping an arm around the usually cheerful blonde.

There was a moment of deafening silence as both Elena and her father left the mansion and it was broken only by a violent curse from Tyler.

"We _can't_ let that happen," His eyes were much too wide and his movements, as he got up from the couch and stalked haphazardly around the room, were jerky and distinctly wild, "Elena _can't_ d-die!"

"And she won't." Atticus interjected, "Well…not exactly, that is." Here he shared a glance with his younger sister, both looking a little more than uncomfortable.

Jeremy narrowed his eyes dangerously and Zatanna could suddenly see why he would be chosen as a supernatural hunter who was part of the Brotherhood of the Five. His eyes; so reminiscent of his own sister's (or cousin?) were the same doe brown shade but where Elena's eyes glinted with mischief and shone with laughter, her younger brother's had suddenly hardened until all Zatanna could see was an impenetrable brown wall staring back at her.

It was unnerving to see such an expression on a ten-year old boy.

"Explain, please," Jeremy began softly, leaning forward, "Because this is my _sister_ we're talking about."

Caroline lifted her head from where it rested upon Zatanna's shoulder and looked at the Spanish witch confused and with trembling lips.

"I don't understand." She spoke in a wobbling voice, as if she was straining to sound relatively normal.

"Yeah, we have to save her," Bonnie intoned, determination lining her features before she took note of the pointed silence coming from both her Asturias cousins and Enzo and her expression faltered, "Right?" She asked suddenly unsure and fearful.

"Not exactly," Zatanna grimaced, ignoring the sudden attention and accusing stares she gathered.

"How could you?" Tyler growled in outrage, "This is Elena we're talking about and you're telling me that you're not gonna help her?"

"What do you mean, 'not exactly'?" Jeremy jumped up, his eyes flashing with hurt and anger. "You're witches and you won't even _try_ to help her?"

"Don't," Vicki cut in warningly, her jade eyes watching them all carefully, "Let them talk."

"Thank you Vicki," Zatanna spoke tiredly, now came the hard part, "What we mean is that we're not going to stop Klaus from finding her," Zatanna scowled at the immediate uproar of voices and instead continued in a sharper tone of voice, "And _when_ he finds her, do you know what we're going to do?"

"Save Elena?" Matt almost shrieked hysterically.

"No," Atticus refuted her statement calmly, "We're going to let him perform the ritual."

A momentary pause and Zatanna closed her eyes because she was certain this was merely the calm before the storm.

Lo and behold, proving her correct, everyone (including Vicki) immediately began protesting loudly.

Enzo was quiet, and Zatanna could feel through their bond that he was leaving this for them to handle. A wise decision. The baby Scooby gang, no matter how welcoming they had been towards him still did not know him quite well and would not appreciate the vampire's pragmatic opinion.

"What-" Zatanna began loudly so that she was heard clearly over the voices, "-is our main objective concerning Elena in regards to the ritual?"

"Keeping her safe?" Bonnie offered, although upset she looked at her cousin's with utmost trust in her eyes and –Zatanna found- it meant the world to her.

"Wrong," Zatanna corrected solemnly, "Our objective at the end of the day is keeping Elena _alive."_

"What's the difference?" Tyler asked snootily.

"Think for a moment," Atticus leaned forward, his elbows braced upon his knees, "Do you really think that _when_ Klaus finds out–and yes, it's a when because it's an inevitable fact that Klaus _will_ discover Elena's presence- he'll simply let her go?"

A stricken silence followed and Atticus smiled grimly.

"Stop being naïve, this is Klaus we're talking about, who never stopped hunting Katerina Petrova even when she became a vampire for the simple fact that she defied him, that she put a major kink in his plans. What makes you think he'll let Elena go? Even if we do manage to somehow prevent Elena from being forced to take part in the ritual, do you really think, Klaus will ever stop hunting her?" Atticus' words were a sharp slap in the face for the rest of the pubescent children, barring his sister, of course.

"Klaus is still hunting Katerina, even after five hundred years. Oh yes, she might have faked her death but Klaus has connections everywhere and do you really think he or any of the other present Originals, being the diabolical masterminds they are, would have actually fallen for Katerina's ruse? Predators like them, they enjoy the hunt the most." Her brother continued.

"And Klaus' fury was so absolute," Zatanna piped in, staring at each of the pale faces looking at Atticus and her, "That he hunted down Katerina's family and slaughtered them like sacrificial animals. To cross him would mean complete destruction for Elena and her family and everyone who helped her escape the ritual," The Asturias witch was not so arrogant to not acknowledge her own weaknesses or another's strength, and as a former soldier it was a lesson she knew all too well, "What we do need to do is simply outsmart him."

"H-how do we do that?" Vicki asked hesitantly, her hand curling around her younger brothers; for his comfort or her own, Zatanna knew not.

Zatanna smirked, "Simple, we let Elena take part of the ritual. But it's going to be on our terms."

This time there was no uproarious protests, only expressions of confusion as they stared at her.

"Now we all know what the ritual entails," Zatanna held up one finger, "First, Klaus needs to have the moonstone which binds the curse upon him, and we know Katerina bargained it for her freedom and it was last known to be in the possession of George Lockwood. Which means it's still in the possession of the Lockwood family."

Tyler's eyes lit up with realization before they hardened over in determination, "I'll find it, I swear." He promised, his eyes; dark and unfathomable.

Atticus nodded appreciatively and sent a half-smile the un-triggered werewolf's way.

"Second, he needs a werewolf, vampire and the doppelgänger to sacrifice; the werewolf and vampire representing both parts of him and the doppelgänger's blood is used to break the curse and as such, she would be the final part of the ritual," Zatanna explained, "Apart from this, he needs a witch to perform the ritual and the entire ritual needs to take place on a spiritually charged spot –usually where there is a lot of concentrated supernatural energy gathered at intersecting ley lines, and its preferable if such a spot is found in the doppelgänger's birth place."

"But how can we outsmart him?" Bonnie looked deeply engrossed in the conversation.

Zatanna grinned and her eyes flashed with subtle power, "I'm glad you asked, sweetheart." She almost purred, "It's because Klaus didn't take into factor one crucial detail."

"What's that?" Matt's eyes; baby blue and much too innocent.

Atticus grinned and took over, "Klaus' main motive for releasing the curse placed upon him is to free his bound werewolf side _and_ to make other hybrids like him."

"But if he _does_ go through with the ritual and Elena _does_ die at the end of it," Zatanna ignored the simultaneous flinches that garnered, "He'll find he won't be able to do so."

"But _why_?" Caroline sounded completely lost.

"The theory of it is simple, after turning into a hybrid himself, he would proceed to feed his blood to other werewolves and then killing them to begin their transition into hybrids."

"The same way a vampire transitions." Jeremy stated, his eyes now contemplative.

Atticus nodded, "The only difference being that he's turning _werewolves_ into vampires. But he's forgotten one _tiny_ detail. He, himself was _born_ as a werewolf and was turned into a vampire by a _spell –_ a luxury no other werewolf has as they would be turned into hybrids by drinking the _Original hybrid's_ blood- and even then Klaus _needed_ the doppelgänger's blood to unlock that side of his after it had been bound by Nature's magic."

"To make werewolves into vampires and furthermore into successful hybrids, Klaus needs to feed them the doppelgänger's blood as a stabilizing agent." Zatanna concluded.

Bonnie's eyes lit up, "Because he needs Elena's blood to unlock his _own_ hybrid potential, _of course_ the werewolves would be needed to be fed her blood too!"

The Asturias siblings grinned, "And that'll be enough incentive for him to agree to Elena needing to be alive by the end of the ritual."

"Furthermore, we'll offer ourselves as the witches who are needed to perform the ritual." Atticus grinned.

"And a vampire as old as him knows of the Asturias family, vaguely at best, but he would, at the very least, know that we are powerful. And of course, he wouldn't pass up the chance to avail our offered services." Zatanna grinned.

"I do have to hand it to _Seňora Esther Mikaelson._ She's a devious one, ensuring her son never makes any more abominations like himself." Atticus mused.

"I suppose it would be easy enough to find a vampire and werewolf for Klaus to sacrifice as well." Zatanna commented softly to herself, her mind already deciding on which two individuals she could use.

"W-wait, isn't that wrong?" Caroline said suddenly, looking apprehensive. "You're _choosing_ people for Klaus to sacrifice, to _kill!"_

A sudden silence followed and it was entirely unnerving as Zatanna stared at them with cold, detached eyes. She had been anticipating such a reaction, and she supposed that now was a good a time as any to rid them of those foolish misconceptions. They might lose a sense of childish optimistic naivety but…

It didn't matter, not in the long run, when they were all, in some way or another connected to the supernatural world. They couldn't afford to see the world in a black and white view when in reality it was an entire spectrum of grays. There was no simple good and bad. Better they learn it sooner rather than later.

"Tell me," She began quietly and coldly, "Do you think everyone who kills someone is bad?"

"Trick question," Matt scowled, "Duh, they are."

Zatanna gave a sudden shark-like grin, "Dumb answer. No, they are not."

"Killing people is _wrong."_ Bonnie said convincingly.

This time Atticus grimaced, "Oh, _Seňorita Bonita,_ if only it were so simple."

"What's your opinion about the soldiers who fight for their country?" Zatanna continued to question, something within her _burning_ with anger at the ignorance shown before her.

 _They're just children, they don't know any better,_ Zatanna's mind supplied soothingly, _Stay calm._

But it was _hard._ For some reason, Zatanna –the usually calm and easy-going Zatanna- felt her patience thinning. She felt _so_ angry.

"They're heroes," Tyler frowned, looking lost at the line of Zatanna's questioning.

That particular answer left Zatanna feeling cold all over, before simmering anger took over.

 _No, they're not. We're not. **I'm** not. _Her thoughts betrayed her.

Her blood roared within her ears, the anger and the sudden stifling panic she was feeling became apparent.

Zatanna wanted to _scream._

Her breaths came out harsher and her teeth gnawed at her lower lip, she was losing all control and Zatanna fought with the instinct to give into the overpowering panic. She couldn't lose control. She couldn't lose herself.

 _Hero._

What an entirely naïve notion.

Is that what the civilians thought? That as a soldier, _she,_ automatically became a fucking hero?

 _Blank onyx orbs stared up at her, lifeless and **dead** , torn lips spread open in a frozen smile._

 _The snarling sob ripped through her throat._

 _A sudden shout from behind her overtook her hearing senses._

 _"Saoirse!"_

Zatanna snapped her eyes shut, barely controlling a whimper from escaping.

No.

She was no hero.

"Zatanna," Enzo's voice snapped her out of her panic-attack, her eyes snapped open and she stared into _warm_ , soothing ebony-brown (not onyx, not onyx, _not onyx)_ eyes.

"Love," He continued softly, " _Breathe."_

And just realizing the deep gasps she was emitting, Zatanna swallowed and tried to do exactly as Enzo told her.

Breathe.

He rubbed her back soothingly while whispering quiet assurances in her ear.

"That's it, love, calm down, you're safe." He brushed back the stray strands escaping her French braid and pressed a quick kiss on the top of her head.

Zatanna's heart almost burst with the pure love and adoration she felt for the vampire before her and, as a response, she looped her arms around his neck and hugged him with all the strength she had.

Unlike his typical response (which was tensing comically) he wrapped his own arms around her and held her close.

"Feeling better, sweetheart?"

And just like that, all the anger raging within her drained out, until she was left feeling bone tired and deflated.

After which, of course, she was reminded that she had an audience which was _just_ wonderful.

She cursed under her breath in Greek.

She lifted her face from Enzo's shoulder and cast a wary glance around her. Atticus stood just behind Enzo and other than looking tense, he looked completely unaffected. Zatanna was not fooled, however, she could see his magical aura reacting in a volatile manner and almost seemed to be lashing out.

With softened eyes, she reached out a hand which her older brother grasped immediately, and squeezed it in comfort.

Staring at his scowl she could almost read his thoughts.

 _I'm the one supposed to be comforting you._ His eyes said.

 _I'll be fine, perhaps a little out of it but ultimately fine, I swear._ Her own eyes conveyed.

And finally he relaxed.

The rest of _her_ baby Scooby gang looked shaken and confused, Bonnie immediately making her way over to Zatanna.

"Are you okay?" She asked worriedly, her eyes open wide with fright.

"I will be." Zatanna did not lie, "I might need a hug though." She added for her younger cousin's benefit.

Bonnie immediately wrapped her arms around Zatanna, and the Asturias witch closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth it offered.

Clearing her throat decisively, Zatanna ignored the inquisitive eyes aimed at Atticus and her and instead looked at Enzo, smiling thankfully, which he returned with a calm grin of his own before he got up from his crouched position and moved to stand next to her, the motion entirely protective. Atticus had taken to seating himself on arm of the sofa, on her other side; and so as a result Zatanna was flanked on both sides by her older brothers (because that's exactly what Enzo had become).

"And," Zatanna began again, staring at her hands, "Don't soldiers kill too?"

Her entire audience was speechless.

"Doesn't that make them murderers too?" She continued, "You all seem to agree they're heroes, and maybe they are. But ultimately, they are people too. They might not think of themselves as heroes. Our soldiers might be perceived as enemy murderers to others, just as others are perceived as the same by us."

She swallowed thickly, "How do you know, that the ones soldiers have killed, are innocent or if they deserve it? How do you know anyone who dies is either of those two?" At the horrified expressions facing her, she immediately softened her countenance, "I'm not saying people deserve to die, or that innocent lives are never lost. That's not what I meant."

"My point is, you never know what might occur in the future; what happens if one day, Tyler _does_ accidentally kill someone and unlock his curse? Will you suddenly abandon him or _justify_ his action as an _accident?_ Every death might have its reason, some might not even have that. Innocent lives might be lost. But please, don't just assume everything is good and bad, heroes and villains. The world is not like that. It's not _black and white."_

"To assume so, it makes you no better than the judgmental servants of nature; who justify everything they do as for the greater good of Nature. It makes you selfish and naïve and pathetic. You have no room to judge others for their actions. You don't, not when you could have done the same, or if you haven't judged yourself first."

Zatanna stared up into Enzo's eyes, letting the warmth and calm in them wash over her, "And if you do kill someone, and it might be inevitable that one of you does –because you are so involved in the supernatural world, it might be impossible not to. Would you justify your actions, defend them and then proceed to judge others for doing the same?"

"The least we can do," And this time, Zatanna was speaking about herself, the firm rule she had established for herself, "Is _not_ justify our actions if they resulted in hurting or even killing someone, it's not fair to the person who died or was hurt. The least we can do…is accept our actions, its consequences and move on. We owe them, _that much._ "

Her brother grabbed her hand in support, "The world is not a happy place." He said in a solemn and grim voice and Zatanna was taken-aback at how much like their father Atticus sounded,

"But…I don't want to kill anyone," Caroline was crying earnestly.

"I will make sure you don't have to," Zatanna promised, "I might fail, but you can be damn well sure that I won't stop trying."

Bonnie wiped at the tears in her own eyes, trying valiantly to control her distressed sobs and Zatanna's magic seemed to react mournfully to the sound of her cries; it didn't settle well within her that she caused her cousin's tears, that she caused any of _her_ pseudo-family's tears.

But, it was necessary.

Better they get rid of any of the prejudiced or judgmental streak they might have left.

 _They're just children_. A stray thought betrayed her.

Biting her lip, Zatanna suddenly regretted what she did, but then she remembered what had occurred in the original timeline.

The future Scooby gang's unwillingness to listen to anyone else, their constant justifications of their own actions as necessary, the immediate judgements passed, the foolish and selfish actions, the labeling of villains and the high and mighty attitude that no other lives mattered more than their own and Elena's.

And her sudden guilt vanished just as quickly as it came.

She _was_ a soldier at heart, she thought with a bitter smile, and in a battlefield, in the _war_ , miscalculations like the aforementioned ones, and the sheer stupidity of them could cost you your life and many more as well.

Selfish actions, foolish self-righteousness and naivety did not matter in a battle. Alliances did. Something, the Scooby gang of the original timeline could never grasp.

Which brought her to her next point.

"Now, keeping Elena safe." She changed the topic as quickly as she breathed, "The Originals, well the ones who are currently un-daggered-"

"Elijah and Klaus, right?" Vicki confirmed, looking just as shaken as her crying brother, but like Tyler, she did not allow herself to weep and in fact welcomed the change in topic.

Atticus nodded, seeing the direction of conversation Zatanna was steering to, "All the Originals possess a network of communication, the current active ones belong to the youngest three Original brothers. Elijah, Klaus and Kol."

"But wait," Jeremy asked from where he was sitting next to Caroline, an arm wrapped around her shoulder in comfort, "Isn't Kol daggered?"

Atticus gave a half-smile in response, "Kol is…you know, he's…he's said to be the most volatile, intelligent and cunning of the Originals, which is saying a lot because Klaus is one conniving mastermind himself. Kol's established network never stops working, they consist of witches he's allied himself to, as well. The ones Klaus or any of the other Originals have allied themselves to; they _fear_ their respective superior Original instead of respect, that makes their loyalty fickle. Not Kol's though, his network, his allies _respect_ him and _that-_ that keeps them working so that when he wakes again they will not have failed him."

"It's admirable truly," Enzo sounded appreciative, "It makes you wonder, what kind of a man Kol Mikaelson is truly like?"

Zatanna allowed herself to wonder the same, she had long since learned the show only portrayed its characters in a 2-D manner. Now living, in that particular world, she could gather that everyone had so much more depth to their characters, certain quirks and habits that were never shown in the show, certain changes in their appearance that marked them subtly different than what little she remembered of how they looked like.

She had discovered this fact a little later on (a fact she was ashamed to admit); fact being that she might stare at a person and recognize who they were in the show, but Zatanna discovered that she couldn't remember their appearance. Not truly, that is.

When she had first met Enzo, she instinctively knew who he was, perhaps it was attributed to the knowledge she had, but prior to the meeting, she hadn't really remembered what he looked like.

She supposed it was a side effect to her rebirth.

And then she wondered, how the Originals would be like when she met them in person.

Zatanna cursed herself for looking forward to such an event.

"Anyways, Papa has his own supernatural network as well; one he shares with _Tío Lázaro,_ apparently _._ And he encouraged us to form our own." Atticus continued, "Enzo here has volunteered to help us manage it."

"Translation, I'm going to be doing the main brunt of the work," Enzo smirked.

"Only because no one takes children seriously." Zatanna scoffed.

"Indeed." The former Augustine-vampire rolled his eyes fondly.

"So we're going to be tracking Klaus and Elijah's movements, even Katerina's." Atticus explained.

"Katerina's weird." Matt shuddered.

"Yeah, I can't believe she played the Salvatore brothers like that." Tyler gagged.

"Elijah and Trevor, too," Bonnie scowled. "Poor Rose. She has to constantly be on the run for Trevor and Katerina's mistakes."

Zatanna grinned tiredly, feeling strangely proud of all these children who were _hers._

"We'll keep track of their movements and any other threats that might target Elena or any of you, I'll try to keep you safe to the best of my ability. I solemnly swear it." Zatanna gave her oath, her magic quivering with the power; binding the promise she made.

"You know," Caroline mused, "I still can't believe most of our parents are part of some vampire-killing society."

"I _know!_ " Tyler pointed at her animatedly, "It sounds so weird."

Enzo snorted.

And Zatanna wondered why she surrounded herself with these idiots (Also _no,_ she did not sound fond while thinking this).

* * *

 ** _8th December, 2005; Asturias Household, Mystic Falls; Virginia, United States of America._**

Tyler raced into the Asturias living room, where in the entire past year, everyone had taken to meeting for group therapy sessions; each of them (that included Zee, Ace and Enzo) had private, individual sessions with the patriarch of the Asturias family but they also had group sessions so they could work through common problems together.

As it was, Tyler found it reassuring and comforting he could share his problems involving his parents (key word: his father) with a reasonable and responsible adult (besides Mister A was _cool_ ).

"I've found it!" He announced triumphantly, the immediate feeling of success he was feeling seemed to overpower him, "I've found the moonstone!"

"Who cares?" Zee refuted uncharacteristically. "We have more important things to worry about."

And successfully stomping all over his feelings of triumph, Tyler was left blinking at the Asturias witch in confusion.

"Like what?" He asked, flabbergasted.

Matt laughed at his expression and ignored the scowl he received in return.

Ace and Zee gave him similar grins of excitement (the un-triggered werewolf swore those two looked more like twins every passing day), in fact Zee seemed to be bouncing on her feet.

"Like _Narnia!"_ The Asturias witch _squealed._

"What the fuck?" Tyler deadpanned, looking and feeling creeped out (because Zee _never_ squealed, it was apparently beneath her), he glanced at an amused Elena (and ignored the sudden giddiness that overtook his senses when she turned her big doe eyes towards him), "Are they high?"

"Language," Mister A sent an unreadable yet entirely intimidating glance in his direction.

Tyler apologized.

"No," Elena grinned, her eyes glinting with mischief, "They're excited."

.

.

.

" _Sooo,_ they're not okay." Tyler summarized.

A cushion met his face and Tyler winced while also hiding a grin.

 _"Cállate,"_ Zee grinned good-naturedly, her long hair pulled up in a high ponytail, "The Chronicles of Narnia's first movie is releasing _tomorrow_!"

"Do you have any idea, how long we've been waiting for this moment?" Ace agreed.

"I'm pretty sure that's not more important than the moonstone…you know, the one that Tyler just mentioned he _found."_ Vicki interjected, looking up from the book she was reading.

"Where is it?" Jeremy asked eagerly.

Tyler deflated.

"Yeah, about that, I don't have it."

A pause.

"Gee, Tyler," Bonnie began sarcastically, she didn't look at him, her eyes instead concentrated upon the open grimoire placed on her lap, "You're _so_ helpful."

"Yeah, _you_ scrounge around my dad's study, when I've been so obviously forbidden to enter it." He scowled, his lips pulling downwards, before wincing when the movement caused pain to bloom across his jaw.

Enzo and Mister A immediately zeroed in on the movement, "You're hurt." The vampire frowned and Mister A's expression fell into that blank canvas, something which Tyler had learned to be wary of.

"What? No, of course not." He tried to deny, internally panicking and hoping against hope that the make-up foundation on his face hadn't rubbed away.

Caroline watched him like a hawk and Tyler knew she was noticing all his little movements (internally, he cursed her perceptiveness).

"That's…you have make-up on your face!" Elena got up from her seat worriedly (Tyler changed his mind, he cursed _Elena's_ perceptiveness, no matter how pretty she was).

But it was Zee who reached him first, her own face mirrored her fathers as she rubbed away the foundation lining his jaw with a gentleness he did not expect.

He clenched his jaw (and then once more winced when it caused his jaw to ache), and studiously did not look anyone in the eye.

Matt and Caroline gasped when the bruise, adorning his entire jawline on the left side of his face and spread to the corner of his lips, became visible.

"Damn it, Tyler, who did this?" Matt's anger was apparent through his voice as he ran an agitated hand through his short blonde strands.

Ace came to stand behind his sister; the 15-year old Asturias warlock inspected the bruise before sharing a glance with his father.

Tyler got the feeling the entire Asturias family (and that included Enzo, because Tyler was pretty damned sure that Zee and Ace had adopted the vampire) was furious. But like always, they're anger was quiet, almost calculative.

Now, as it was, Tyler, of all people, was familiar with anger; bright explosive, _erupting_ anger. He, himself, knew all about the intense feelings that accompanied the loss of temper, the sheer quaking anger that could consume a person's entire being.

But it was an anger that depended upon and resulted in the loss over control of emotions and ability to think rationally.

He had learned that most people possessed such anger. Such loss of tempers.

As it was, Tyler was not afraid of such anger.

What he was deathly terrified of was the ice cold fury possessed by any individual; because it meant that single individual's ability to think, to use their brains becomes tenfold. Because igniting such a fury meant preparing for a losing war; it meant being completely and irrevocably _defeated_ before one even stepped upon the battlefield.

To be the object of such a fury was _dangerous_. Because, if they had to, the person possessing such a fury would wait _years_ to gain retribution.

Such a fury did not entail loss of control or drowning in overwhelming emotions. It meant complete awareness and that was absolutely frightening.

Tyler was _well-aware_ that the Asturias family and Enzo possessed such a fury.

In that single moment, where they watched his bruise with frightening blank eyes, they ceased to be simply Mister A or Ace or Zee or even Enzo…

In their place stood the formidable Spanish Lord; Ignacio Asturias, his similarly daunting children; Atticus and Zatanna and their entirely intimidating family member and cherished vampire; Lorenzo St. John.

Tyler _shivered_.

"Did your father hit you?" Atticus (and yes, Tyler felt compelled –Ha! did you see what he did there- to make such a distinction because playful, clever Ace had been replaced with the heir to the Lordship of Lazcano) asked rather bluntly.

Tyler swallowed, "He…I-I was caught snooping around in his study." He was hesitant to confess, "I didn't give him a straight answer so he…"

Tyler would forever deny that his breath hitched in that one moment, but in reality, it had. Confessing the fact, had also led to him recalling the fear and shock he had felt at that moment.

His father had _hit_ him. He had, with no doubt, raised his hand and struck Tyler. Sure, they had terrible arguments before and sometimes Tyler would stay up late at night listening to his parents yelling at each other before his mother would collapse in tears and his father would leave the house in a huff, but never before had Richard Lockwood physically attacked him.

He knew the were-wolf gene was partly to blame for that horrible loss in temper, but, he also knew it could be controlled.

He, himself had issues with his temper, but Mister Asturias had given him calming exercises and encouraged him to release his pent up frustrations in healthy manners (sports, mostly, but he also encouraged early morning runs).

The most useful calming technique, or well, the most effective one for him was where he had to concentrate on a single calming focus point (image, object or person, it didn't matter); imagine it in his mind and steady his breathing.

(Doe Brown eyes flashed through his mind, and Tyler decided he would _never_ admit to those being his focus point, _ever_.)

Anyways, Tyler resented his father for being so controlling, so over bearing and so quick to anger. To be so out of control that he would easily lose himself to his anger and then to not even try to control himself.

 _"Loss of control and losing yourself to your anger is the most basic and childish of mistakes, Tyler,"_ Mister Asturias' voice resonated through his head, _"When you succumb to losing yourself in your anger and the raging emotions it brings with it, you will find that you have already lost."_

Suddenly, Tyler felt ashamed for baring his problems in plain view in front of everyone, they were his problems to deal with. He shouldn't need anyone's help, he especially didn't want pity-filled stares aimed at him.

"Don't be foolish," Ignacio Asturias' stern voice pulled him out of his, admittedly dangerous thoughts, "No one will judge you here, nor pity you. Or have you forgotten? You all know each other's secrets. There is no room for shame, do not allow such thoughts to plague you. You are much closer to your companions than that. It would be equivalent to spitting on the trust they have offered you."

Tyler's thoughts silenced at the commanding yet lazily delivered words. How was it, that Mister Asturias _always_ seemed to know what was going on in his head? Was he that easy to read? Or was it a magic thing?

"Papa is right, of course," Zatanna continued in a no-nonsense tone of voice, "Now, since you went through _such trouble_ , tell us where the moonstone is."

The un-triggered werewolf stared at the conniving gleam flashing through her eyes and suddenly felt nervous, he _knew_ that the entire of the magical Spanish family held great dislike for his parents; his father for obvious reasons and his mother because of her overbearing nature where she constantly tried to involve herself in the affairs of the aristocratic Spanish family and she had also recently started encouraging Tyler to (ugh) _pursue_ Zatanna.

 _"You'd make such a nice couple, Tyler dear."_ She had once said, _"And she comes from such a **nice**_ _family."_

Tyler loved his mother with everything he had but when it came to this matter…

No.

Just… _no_.

Zatanna was a lot like a big sister who always watched out for him, he would never see her in the way his mother was pushing him to ( _ew)_.

Besides, he already had a crush on someone.

"I would like to point out that I _really_ don't like that look in your eyes." Tyler spoke weakly.

Zatanna grinned a shark-like smile, her beautiful eyes lighting up with a familiar kind of mischief, and Tyler was relieved to see that Zee was back (partially).

"Oh, _Seňor Lockwood,_ " Zee almost purred, "You really _shouldn't_ either. Now tell me where the moonstone is."

"Better do it," Caroline looked _proud?_ What even-? "She's a woman on a mission."

"I think I would approve of this mission." Elena looked almost reverent of the mischief on Zee's face, she sent him a reassuring glance as well (although, her eyes glinted with anger and sadness when they caught sight of the ugly bruise on his face).

"Count me in." Bonnie smirked, resembling her cousins in that moment (Tyler was _pretty_ sure that their Asturias friends were a _horrible_ influence).

"I'll cover you." Vicki offered offhandedly.

Jeremy and Tyler exchanged an alarmed glance.

"We better get to it quickly, though," Ace (and yes, Ace was back too) cautioned. "After all, we have Narnia to get to."

"That's tomorrow." Matt offered hesitantly.

"Exactly," The Asturias warlock looked like he couldn't be bothered but also like he was doing them all some big favor, "We have much to prepare for."

"I swear, you're all weird." Jeremy rolled his eyes.

"You're only just _now_ discovering this fact?" Enzo smirked mockingly.

"No, I mean," Jeremy then proceeded to point at the females of their group, " _Them,_ I get, they're _girls."_ The Gilbert ignored the uproar at that, "They're always weird. But _you_ and Ace, I've found to be just the same. How do you handle them, Mister A?" Jeremy aimed a long-suffering glance at the Asturias patriarch.

"I ignore them," Came the blunt response accompanied with a devious smirk.

"Back to the topic at hand," Zee snapped her fingers near Tyler's face, her face gave nothing away save for amusement but Tyler got the feeling she was as angry as she had been before, in fact, he _knew_ she (and the rest of her family) was as angry as before.

They were masking it, however.

For _his_ sake.

Tyler was overcome with intense fondness for his Spanish friends.

"Yeah?" He responded to Zee's statement.

Her grin grew disturbingly wide.

"Leave your window open, will you, _querido?"_

Tyler began contemplating his life choices and wondered how he had landed in such a situation.

He also sent a prayer for his father.

Good luck to him.

(Even though, he _did_ deserve what was coming to him).

* * *

Later that night, Zatanna was given a piggyback ride courtesy of Enzo to the Lockwood mansion.

As it was, she currently stood beneath Tyler's bedroom window with her brother and adopted vampire. Usually the security system would have been a problem for anyone else when sneaking in someone's house but a wave of Atticus' finger had disabled all the cameras and warning systems, leaving the trio unworried.

A careless glance towards her wrist watch showed it two in the morning and that she had _ample_ time to accomplish what she had come to do.

"You'll need a boost." Enzo observed, "And I can't get inside the house, as you well know."

Which, of course, she did. Enzo had remained discreet and as such none of the prominent families (i.e the apparent founder families; conveniently those who were part of the vampire hunting council) knew of Enzo's presence.

"His window is open," Her tall older brother mused (he had shot up another two inches in the past year and now stood at 6'1, his constant physical exercises had also caused his previously lanky limbs in filling out, resulting in him looking much less awkward than before –she would, however, like to point out, his stiff facial hair remained, it was _hilarious_ ).

Atticus then turned to look down at his significantly shorter sister expectantly (she would defend herself by saying that she too had grown two inches in the previous year and was now the tallest female of their group; standing at 5'7).

The thirteen-year old witch raised both her brows at her brother, "What? Don't expect _me_ to give you a boost," She chuckled disdainful, before continuing in a grumble, "I get enough of that in our training lessons."

Atticus rolled his eyes and ruffled her hair, in which's response she smacked his hand away.

"Children," Enzo interjected in an exasperated tone of voice, "Don't fight."

Zatanna privately marveled at how much their adopted vampire brother sounded like their father.

Atticus apparently thought the same as he leveled the vampire with a disbelieving expression, "Clearly, you're spending too much time with Papa." He remarked.

Enzo smirked before bracing his back against the wall below Tyler's bedroom window and cupping his hands in front of him, "Do hurry, will you?" The former Augustine-Vampire scowled, speaking in his smooth British-accented tenor.

Atticus did not reply, instead he swiftly moved, placing a foot within Enzo's cupped hands and using it as a platform; her brother lithely jumped up, his fingers easily grasping the windowsill before he pulled himself up and slipped within the open window with impressive catlike grace.

Zatanna hoped she looked just as impressive as her lean older brother.

Atticus popped his head out of the window and gestured at her to follow and so Zatanna too repeated her brother's movements.

Put a foot in Enzo's hands and push herself up towards the sill, where she deftly and athletically pulled herself within the room.

The room was pitch black and warm (thanks to the internal heating system) and she found Atticus standing by the bedroom door, looking at her with impatient eyes. Zatanna's own gaze, however, found itself fixed upon the snoring un-triggered werewolf lying asleep and oblivious on his bed.

She snorted, amused, at the loud guttural snores escaping his mouth but the amusement soon dashed away once she caught sight of the dark bruise smattering his face.

Pursing her lips, Zatanna scowled, her dislike for Richard Lockwood having evolved into hatred and she bit her tongue in an attempt to keep the _loud,_ vicious promises of retribution at bay.

 _All good comes to those who wait._ A vengeful voice purred in her mind's eye.

She tilted her head to the side, until the _cold_ anger pulsing through her veins calmed; it was still present, thrumming beneath her fingertips but she did not allow it to overtake her common senses.

Her lips tugged into a smile once she caught sight of Tyler's night-wear and she smothered the sudden hysterical urge to laugh.

He wore a full-sleeved thermal T-shirt with Bambi decorating the front and mismatched pajama bottoms that were littered with small little bunnies.

Fearsome werewolf, indeed.

With a grin, the Asturias witch nicked the black marker lying on his study table and approached the young supernatural and scrawled a message across his visible collarbone:

 _You're welcome ;)_

Atticus huffed a laugh in her ear before whispering, "Add a moustache on his face."

Zatanna paused before nodding sagely and doing just that.

Atticus pulled her away the moment she was done, shushing her amused, mischievous giggles as Tyler murmured in his sleep and turned on his side, his back facing them.

"Come on, _querida hermana,_ " Atticus slowly opened the bedroom door and the siblings walked lightly out of the room and towards where they knew Mayor Lockwood's study room was located.

The door of said room was locked but Zatanna snapping her fingers had it opening with ease, the room was organized and decorated with, admittedly, tasteful pieces of furniture and other home décor.

Both siblings, before entering, swept their eyes across the room in a calculative glance; observing all possible exits, entries and items that could be used to their advantage or disadvantage. Observing the minor disturbances across the entirety of the room (and what it told about its usual inhabitant) and carefully slotting away said interpretations for future analysis.

It was an ingrained habit for the both of them; Zatanna having already possessed it (much to her father's pleasure) since young age, a fact attributed to her previous status as a soldier, and Atticus having it ingrained into his habits from the moment he could gain a semblance of situational awareness.

 _'Never doubt the simple power; observation, common sense and intellect can bring you, hijos míos.'_ Her father's wise words resounded in her ears.

Atticus walked in a careful yet assured manner to the painting behind the dark wooden desk; his foot falls light (another trait attributed to their physical training) and his movements sleek and elegant.

She followed her brother, closing the door behind her as she did, and watched as he lifted a painting from its perch against the wall behind the desk. And as the electronic built in safe came into sight, Zatanna had to suppress her immediate eye-roll; why was it that most people hid their safe lockers behind obvious, gaudy paintings?

Internally, she was also impressed with Tyler being resourceful enough to avail the opportunity to inspect the safe when it presented itself. The fact Richard Lockwood had left said safe open, even for a moment, showed much about his care for responsibilities.

However, Tyler seemed to pay for his actions when the Mayor caught his son examining the insides of his safe (no matter, by the time she was through with the Mayor; he would regret even thinking about hurting his son).

Atticus barely blinked at the keypad and the password needed to open the metal strongbox; this was where Tyler could not help them, as he had no idea what the password was.

Her older brother cast a critical glance across the room once more before tilting his head thoughtfully, "A man like Mayor Lockwood believes himself to be a self-important one, with a rather large ego…" He muttered thoughtfully before turning back to the safe, his eyes glowing as he hovered a single hand over the keypad.

"What's your theory?" She asked, curious to hear her brother's thoughts.

He glanced down at her with a half-smile, "The day he became Mayor."

Zatanna nodded in agreement, it would make sense, and Richard Lockwood (bloody, _violent_ arsehole that he was) did indeed hold a primarily controlling personality and was obsessed with his self-image, importance and worth.

"Now, just to confirm it," Atticus glanced at the keypad and after a slight sizzling sound being heard; visible green fluorescent fingerprint marks appeared over the keypad.

Zatanna smirked; whoever had said magic didn't work well with technology obviously did not either broaden their horizons by outsmarting such innate rules or were bound to bloody Mother Nature.

Personally, she thought it was a mixture of both.

Atticus had his own smirk of triumph painted across his lips as he stared at the numbers that had lit up with finger print marks; "The same digits of numbers present in the date of when he became Mayor."

Sending a careless glance her way he punched in the date and the safe clicked open (as if she expected anything else).

There were many miscellaneous items present; multiple thick wads of dollar bills, family heirlooms, bottles of precious alcohol and various black pouches.

With a shrug, she reached forward and grabbed one of the pouches; opening the cover only to close it when it didn't display what she was looking for. The process repeated itself until Atticus, who had joined in the search paused and grinned when he looked into one of the last pouches.

 _"Ay,_ hello precious," Atticus emptied the contents of the pouch in his hand and grinned at the sight of the milky pale stone.

Zatanna moved closer to her brother, tracing a finger against the stone's smooth surface; she could feel restrained magic humming within the solid object and as much as she despised Esther Mikaelson (it was actually _sad_ when she thought about the amount of people she hated in this universe, the number being quite a lot, but hey; at least she was honest), she would acknowledge the woman was learned.

 _She stole the spell from Ayana, **our** maternal ancestor, _Her mind reminded her. _So in virtue of context, it was the knowledge of the Bennett line which granted Esther the power to give her family immortality._

With a smirk playing over her features, the thirteen-year old witch dimly wondered what exactly happened to Ayana's grimoire. Perhaps, she should ask her grand-aunt?

 _"Phase one for the night, completed,"_ Atticus grinned, mischief lighting up his teal-sea green eyes, _"I say we have quite some time to accomplish phase two. What do say, pequeňa seňorita?"_ He continued in their native tongue.

 _"You're forgetting phase one point five,"_ She replied briskly in return, the lilting Spanish words leaving her lips in a whisper.

He stared at her uncomprehending, and sighing irritably she held up a smooth dark stone; roughly the same size as the moonstone.

His lips circled until they formed an 'o' of realization and he then smiled sheepishly at her unimpressed stare.

Zatanna eyed the black stone critically, before gazing at the moonstone; changing the entire property of the stone was typically a tiring task for a normal Wiccan; it required special materials, specific rare conditions applied to an incantation before the property of an object could be changed completely; and it might still hold a risk of failure.

Alchemy; Magical alchemy at that, was an especially interesting topic.

For herself (with her status as an Asturias), it was a much less complicated matter. She needed to magically carve the Egyptian hieroglyphs for appearance upon both stones (in current case; Atticus manipulating flames into said carvings and engraving them upon both stones-one magical and the other decidedly ordinary, with both hovering mid-air) and silently murmur a magical verse of ancient Egyptian origin.

The smooth black stone faded in color until it shifted into a pearly, milky white color and there were no visible differences between both stones.

Atticus snagged the real moonstone out of the air and slipped it into the pocket of his dark blue denim jeans. Zatanna, on the other hand, grabbed the magical stone's doppelgänger (Ha! See what she did there) and inspected it for any differences. Aside from the lack of magical aura, the stone held no major alterations.

A simple strengthening spell later (so the fake stone would withstand any attempts at destruction and to also leave behind a magical residue, so that no one suspected it was a fake), Zatanna slipped the fake-stone into the black pouch and placed the pouch in its proper place before closing the safe and covering it with the picture frame.

She turned to find Atticus grinning at her, his smile decidedly vulturine and resembling more of a show of baring teeth than a grin.

"Show time."

Zatanna grinned in return.

* * *

The next morning found Zatanna, Atticus and Enzo seated around the island in the warm kitchen of the Asturias mansion, all three sniggering at a set of developed pictures.

A maid placed steaming hot plates of their breakfast in front of them, an indulging smile on her young face.

"Where do you get all these ideas?" Enzo sounded admiring, biting his lip in order to control the laughter that threatened to burst forth.

Zatanna looked away from sending a brief smile in Lola's (the kitchen maid, a pretty woman of twenty-three with sleek chestnut hair and pale blue eyes) direction and gave her pseudo adopted-vampire older brother a mischievous smirk.

"When you enjoy pranking, there are no limits and endless possibilities." She replied promptly.

"Well said, _hermana,_ " Atticus nodded sagely, taking a bite of his waffles, "I couldn't have said it better myself."

In front of them lay pictures of Richard Lockwood or someone who once resembled how the mayor of Mystic Falls usually looked like.

The man in the picture had one of his eyebrows waxed off (Zatanna admitted she took inspiration from Paper Towns; a novel which would be written in the future by John Green and was yet to be released) and his hair dyed magically into a neon pink color (the color wouldn't disappear until they willed it too). And in a particularly vindictive move, Atticus had planted a minor persuasion spell in the werewolf Mayor's mind where every time Richard Lockwood would even contemplate physically hurting his wife or child, he would instead punch himself.

Zatanna had thought it was _genius_.

She longed for the day he would make a public fool of himself (hopefully, said day wasn't too far off).

And finally, upon Enzo's suggestion (the vampire was _brilliant)_ they had taken pictures of the mayor with help of the Polaroid camera the vampire had innocently brought along.

 _"For insurance purposes, of course, in case the good mayor does not learn his lesson,"_ He had drawled lazily, appreciative of the adoring expressions that suddenly painted both Spaniard's faces.

The giggling (yes, she would admit, they were indeed _giggling_ ) trio were brought out of their amused revere when the doorbell started ringing incessantly.

Lola exited the kitchen quickly and proceeded to open the front door from which a huffing form that was Tyler Lockwood barreled through and into the kitchen before launching himself at all three of the occupants.

"Iloveyouohmygodyou'rethebesteveriloveyousomuch-" He rambled so quickly that it was hard to distinguish what he was saying but Zatanna understood the gist of it.

Enzo laughed –an honest to god, deep baritone and light-hearted laugh where just for a moment all his emotional burdens slipped away- and Zatanna's heart practically melted with the warmth she felt (a romanticized concept but true nonetheless).

"I'm glad you liked our surprise!" He grinned wickedly and Zatanna wondered whether they were the bad influence or that Enzo had always possessed such a streak.

"Liked it? _Liked it?_ I LOVED IT!" Tyler yelled throwing his arms in the air, "I am so glad we're friends, I mean I _hated_ the moustache and message but I loved what you did to dad and that-" Tyler faltered in his good cheer before softening and looking so _grateful_ that it was heartbreaking to see, "-that you would do that for me."

"You matter, Tyler." He brother said simply, "All of you do, and like we said before, we _always_ have you're backs, no matter what."

"But," Zatanna jumped in, wanting to get rid of that vulnerable expression painted across the un-triggered werewolf's face (the scribbled moustache on his face, did little to hinder the intensity of his expression), "If you're about to do something stupid, we're also obliged to chew into you and basically troll you until you realize your own ability to be a moron." She was rather fond of that slang; 'trolling', and hence, did not care if it had been invented yet or not.

"And just when I was starting to like you," Tyler replied sarcastically.

Zatanna grinned, "You little shit."

"Learned from the best," He snarked, his dark eyes lighting up with glee.

Zatanna was unashamed to admit she launched herself at the young Lockwood who shrieked (he wouldn't admit it) and, in retaliation, tried to wrestle her into submission.

Needless to say he failed.

The two magical siblings and their father would later drag Tyler to the cinema where they watched the masterpiece that was Chronicles of Narnia (Liam Neeson had _such_ a deep voice; something that still shook her while simultaneously making her sigh dreamily and Edmund Pevensie was _still_ the most relatable character and there was something about his eyes and character development that made Zatanna fancy him. _Again._ ).

The three teenagers also laughed until they cried and collapsed against each other when they encountered a silently fuming Mayor Lockwood on their way out of the cinema; he had both his brows shaved off and an unprofessional and entirely fake looking wig covering his head.

He had glanced at a laughing Tyler, turned a decidedly obvious red color and raised his arm (presumably to drag his son away) only to slam a rather hard punch across his face before falling dazed upon the ground.

Their father had ended up dragging the three wheezing supernatural beings to the parking lot and into the car, and of course, this was not before he, himself, spared a contempt filled glance in the unimpressive mayor's direction.

* * *

 ** _25th October, 2006; en route to the Asturias Household, Mystic Falls; Virginia, United States of America._**

Vicki was _furious_.

Angry tears sprung up in her jade-green eyes and her cheeks were an angry shade of red, her strides were harsh and fast and she had to swallow multiple times to curb that incessant need to _scream._

Matt followed behind her, his entire countenance on the opposite spectrum of her own. Where she felt anger coursing through her veins, blood roaring in her ears and was also very close to seeing only red in her vision, Matt was simply upset.

His expression had fallen into a heartbroken one, a _defeated_ one and that only seemed to increase her own livid stance at the entire situation.

(She studiously ignored the ball of hurt that threatened to erupt from within her chest, she was angry, damn it, _not_ sad).

Matt's own baby-blue eyes shone with unshed betrayed tears, his demeanor entirely downcast. She hated seeing that, she hated seeing her little brother so upset, he was responsible and kind and held an innocence which had remained unmarred even after their revelations of the supernatural world. Vicki was supposed to protect that.

The urge to scream seemed harder to resist and thinking about the words hurled at them by their _own_ mother in an uncaring manner seemed only to infuriate her further (she was _not feeling hurt,_ damn it) _._

 _"I'm leaving," Kelly Donovan announced that morning, dragging a suitcase behind her, and stumbling her hungover self into the kitchen, opening the glass jar where her children had piled spare money in._

 _"What?" Vicki had looked up from where she was attempting to finish an English assignment on her rickety second-hand laptop._

 _Her mother shoved the dollar bills she had scooped up from the jar (every bill and cent; a solid amount of sixty dollars) into her purse and spared a careless glance in her daughter's direction. "Are you deaf, sweetie?" She spoke in a sickeningly sweet tone, "I said I'm leaving."_

 _Vicki scowled at the woman she had the misfortune to call her mother and when her eyes met similar jade-green ones, Vicki had to swallow down the bile that rose at the realization she had often been plagued with; she looked so much like her mother._

 _Vicki **hated** that._

 _"Where are you going? And when are you coming back?" Matt intervened quickly, knowing if the conversation continued in the way it had turned to, an argument was likely to follow._

 _"I'm leaving with Pete," Kelly replied bored, referring to her current boyfriend "Probably to Florida and I'm not coming back, well not anytime soon."_

 _A momentary silence._

 _"What?" Vicki repeated her earlier question, her ears ringing with her mother's words and her anger was rising steadily._

 _"Yeah, yeah, cry if you want to, whatever, just don't call anytime soon," Kelly continued, dragging her feet to the front door, "I'll call if I have to, anyways, catch you later."_

 _"Mom!" Matt, her sweet thirteen-year old brother Matt, stared after their mother in horrified disbelief. "You can't just…you can't just leave us!" He cried out in betrayal, his voice having an odd gasping overtone to it, as if he couldn't quite breathe properly._

 _"Ugh, don't be clingy Matty, you're old enough to look after yourself, besides I got fired from my job and I'm so done with having all these responsibilities and burdens, I need a **long** break." Kelly snapped back irritably, opening the front door, sparing a wave to her boyfriend who was leaning against his car._

 _"Burdens?" Vicki's voice cut through the air with all the sharpness of a knife, Matt had fallen silent and simply stared at his mother with his mouth agape and wounded tears leaking from his eyes. "You think we're burdens?"_

 _The 'duh' look she received in response had her gritting her teeth and Matt gasping in pain._

 _"How could you?" He croaked out, staring as if he couldn't quite recognize their own mother._

 _Kelly Donovan rolled her eyes as if **they** were troubling **her** , "If you're worried about money, just go to the Gilbert's. Miranda's my best friend, shell spare you a few bucks."_

 _"Fuck. Off." Vicki hissed, fury taking over her entire form with ease._

 _Kelly huffed and slammed the door shut behind her, a disbelieving silence was left in her wake, and Vicki was dimly aware of tires screeching away from their house._

 _Her hands trembled and Vicki felt this odd out of body experience as she grabbed her brother's hand and stumbled out of their house, barely stopping to lock the front door before she stalked towards one direction._

 _The Asturias Mansion._

Vicki knew, she _knew_ , that she needed to see the formidable patriarch of the Asturias family, she needed him to listen to her with calm eyes; eyes that never judged and never faltered and only _demanded_ respect, she needed the silent support provided to her by the Asturias siblings (including their adopted vampire).

She _needed_ to see them before she did anything stupid, she _needed_ to relieve herself of her anger (and hurt) and more than anything she _needed_ them to tell her what to do now?

(Once upon a time, she might have been wary of her dependence on the Spanish family but now it came as a relief, they were the pillar of support all of the teenagers in their group relied on.)

Panic intermingled with the anger and horror she felt. How were they going to get money to run their entire household, how were they going to pay for everything? How was she going to take over all the responsibilities?

 _Oh god, oh god, oh god, what was she going to **do?**_ Vicki thought frantically.

"-Vicki, damn it, Vicki, slow down!" Matt grasped her by the shoulder and turned her to face him.

Vicki stared into her brother's sorrowful eyes and almost gave into her desire to cry.

"We-we have to go to Mister A," She sputtered out, "We-they'll help us and-"

"I know they will, Vicki! But how're we gonna get there, they live in the outskirts of the other side of town," Matt spoke frustrated, "We can't just _walk_ there."

Vicki stared at him stricken and with a softened demeanor Matt pulled his sister into a big, warm comforting hug, "Its okay," He whispered into her dark hair, "We'll be fine, we always are."

Her loathing was now aimed at herself, she was the older one and she was supposed to be comforting her visibly distraught little brother. Instead, here she was soaking all the comfort he had to offer her.

Matt was so good to her, always someone she could rely to always have her back just as he could rely on her to do the same.

And there was a time where Vicki thought that Matt and she were all they both had. But that wasn't quite true was it?

She recalled Elena and her mischievous doe-brown eyes and her favorite quote,

 _"If I'm going to die, might as well do everything I want with my life before that."_ Elena's excuse to everything stupid and reckless she does.

She recalled Tyler's obvious crush on the doppelgänger and the blatant overprotective worry he showed.

 _"You're a bloody idiot,"_ Tyler had fisted his hands in his short, dark hair, looking close to ripping it out when he had discovered Elena had jumped out of a window to avoid being caught as the culprit who pranked his father (a standing joke among their group where they all pranked the man who had violent tendencies).

She recalled Caroline's long-suffering sighs and candid, blunt remarks,

 _"She's an idiot but it was **so** worth it, did you even see your Dad's face?" _Caroline high-fived Bonnie, a snide smirk on her face. _"And did you see the look on your Mom's face when the entire bowl of punch fell on her dress? Priceless!"_ The blonde almost cackled.

She recalled Bonnie's impish expressions and tendency to magically move chairs out of place only so she could watch random people fall back and flail while doing so.

 _"Awesome! Next time I'll turn her hair green!"_ Bonnie wiggled her fingers, turning _Tyler's_ hair green, and she stared in surprise at the hair and then at her fingers before smiling sheepishly, _"Whoops, still need to control myself, I guess,"_ And she ducked out of way, running from the young Lockwood and his furious yells.

She recalled Jeremy's know-it-all smirk and mirth-filled side-glances.

 _"I think it's an amazing new look,"_ He drawled, exchanging an amused look with Matt, _"Tyler should invest in dyeing his hair all the time, It'll be like the time Mayor Lockwood had pink hair."_

She recalled Enzo's handsome lazy drawl and articulate manner of speech, and the dark depth to his eyes.

 _"For all intents and purposes, I blame you two and the horrible influences you present."_ Enzo glanced away from the entertaining sight in front of him and at the grinning magical siblings who were _his_ adopted family.

And she finally recalled the rather enigmatic Asturias family, and the quiet power they exuded and respect their exotic eyes demanded.

 _"If this is the result, I'll gladly take the blame,"_ Ace responded in the same eloquent manner Enzo did.

 _"You can't take all of the credit,"_ Zee snorted, her manner of speaking as fluent as her brother(s).

 _"I suppose you can take five percent,"_ Ace teased, dodging when his sister aimed a punch at his arm.

 _"Children,"_ Came Mister A's bored reprimand.

Vicki trembled with relief at having all these people standing behind her; and they were, weren't they? It was something they all had made sure each of them knew. They stood together, no matter what. And the noble Spanish family had ensured this.

Dimly, she wondered, what would have happened if the Asturias family had never moved to Mystic Falls in some other distant life? Nothing good, she was sure.

With those thoughts filling her head, Vicki wrapped her hands around her brother and let a few tears slip through.

Because they're mother _just left_.

The sound of tires squealing to a top and the rumble of a car engine had the two siblings turning towards the sound.

"Vicki? Matt?" Miranda Gilbert blinked as she stepped out of her car, "Are you okay? What are you doing out here, and…are you crying?" The woman walked towards them alarmed, "What happened? Where's your mother?"

Vicki was exhausted and perhaps that showed on her face because Miranda stopped her questioning and stared at both of them with shrewd concern, "What do you need?" She asked instead.

And licking her lips, Vicki replied honestly,

"A ride to the Asturias Mansion, please?"

* * *

Ignacio Asturias felt his own fury mounting as he listened, unimpressed, to the eventful morning the Donovan siblings had.

Miranda Gilbert, who had done the courtesy of dropping them off, insisted on staying until she too found out the source of the siblings' obvious distress and Ignacio had agreed (internally sighing at the stubbornness steeling her moss-green eyes).

And he found, that she too was staring in disbelieved anger at the hurtful explanations given.

Victoria –or Vicki as she had taken to being called- was pacing across the room in agitated straight lines, "What do we _do,_ Mister A?" She ran her hands through her hair and Ignacio wondered if it had been this large change which had caused Vicki to turn to drugs; in a misguided attempt to gain respite.

No matter, even if it was, Ignacio would make sure, the future his daughter had witnessed would not come to be.

"What are your priorities?" He asked instead, noticing from the corner of his eyes that Miranda sent a confused glance in his direction, but when Vicki turned to look at him, he could easily identify the appreciating gaze she pinned him with.

"Money, food, money, pay bills, and did I mention _money_?" Matthew (or Matt) sounded a tad bit hysterical not that Ignacio could blame them.

There already fragile status quo had been uprooted with their mother abandoning them (Ignacio felt disgusted, what, exactly, was it with this town and producing bad seeds more often than not?).

"You need a place to stay," Ignacio corrected, "Obviously, you cannot run an entire household and its expenses by yourselves, and it would be foolish to attempt to do so."

"They can stay with me," Miranda offered immediately, glancing at the two teenagers with worry and…she seemed ashamed of herself. Interesting.

Ignacio tilted his head to the side in contemplation, "A pleasant sentiment, _Seňora Gilbert,_ but an illogical and unneeded one."

Miranda interrupted him from continuing, "I knew their mother; Kelly is…she _was_ my best friends and I feel as if it's my responsibility and _privilege_ ," She emphasized, sending a quick glance in the two children's direction, "To offer her children a place to stay."

Vicki laughed bitterly, "Yeah, she already said that."

Miranda frowned, confused.

"If you're worried about money, just go to the Gilbert's," Matt quoted, looking emotionally exhausted.

Miranda's lips pursed in displeasure, "Do you want to come with me?" She asked them, instead, leaving them to make a decision on their own.

"To be honest?" Matt took the reins of the conversation, "Not unless we absolutely have to."

Miranda nodded her head slowly before turning to Ignacio expectantly.

The man raised a single arching brow in amusement before glancing at the two siblings, "As I was about to suggest before I was so rudely interrupted," He spoke pointedly, which Miranda (surprise, surprise) ignored just as pointedly, "I have a rather lavish house and invite you to stay with me, if you so wish, or at least, until you can stand up on your own feet." It was important to take control of their spiraling life but also give control back so that they may have a certain independence to their decision-making abilities.

Matt looked hesitant but Vicki looked as if she was honestly contemplating it.

"We're not a charity case," She announced.

Ignacio let his lips curl in disdain, "I would call you foolish for even assuming yourselves as such."

Vicki's lips twitched in amusement, "We won't be a burden."

"Good for you," He smirked.

" _And_ I need a distraction," She admitted, a mixture of pain and anger crossing her intelligent eyes, "Or I'll probably end up doing something _way_ stupid."

"…I might have just the thing for you," Ignacio grinned cheerfully, "Also please use correct forms of grammar and vocabulary, the slangs these days are just atrocious."

"Is that gonna be a thing?" The sly smirk on Vicki's face as she purposefully used common teenage slangs was much apparent.

"Oh without a doubt," He grinned widely and Vicki's smirk faltered at the blatant challenge the curve of his lips gave.

"We'll be good," Matt assured, elbowing his sister in the side.

"Now, I'll drive you back to your house where you can gather all your requirements. Then I'll send a caretaker to manage the house in your absence and until you wish to return. Any objections?" He clapped his hands together and lifted himself of the armchair he sat upon.

"Can we hug you?" Matt asked honestly, "I mean I really _need_ a hug right now and I know Vicki does too but she'll never admit it."

Blinking bemused, Ignacio spread his arms open in invitation.

And dragging a half-heartedly protesting Vicki with him, Matt wrapped his arms around the tall Spanish Lord's waist with Vicki joining in after a few moments of hesitation.

Furthermore, Ignacio ignored the wet tears that leaked through the front of his full-sleeved navy colored sweatshirt and instead, in an attempt to calm them, asked,

"You are gifted in computer programming and operations, am I correct Vicki?"

She nodded her head silently.

Ignacio hummed, running a hand through her dark strands, and over Matt's blonde ones. "As you know, my children and Enzo have begun operating a network of communications of their own, would you like to assist them in gathering information?"

Vicki pulled away to stare at him in surprise and asked in an oddly touched voice, "Really?"

He smiled more amused than anything, "It will be a good distraction for you and you _are_ gifted in the basics of computer engineering, is that what you aim to become?"

She nodded fervently, "Yeah, a software engineer." Vicki then paused, "I-Thanks Mister A."

Ignacio smiled warmly, "There's nothing to thank me for, work hard, achieve what you want to accomplish and perhaps that will be payment enough."

A determined drive seemed to light up in her eyes and privately Ignacio smiled, he had accomplished in his task of giving the young teenage girl a focus point.

"Besides, let me give you a piece of advice," He informed, addressing both children now. "Sometimes, the best way to have a certain form of revenge is to do nothing. To live your life to the fullest so that when the person who betrayed you returns, he or she returns to face the fact that there lack of presence did nothing to falter you from your life goals. That they weren't worth you having your life in tatters. That your own lives did not revolve around theirs."

"But what if it did," Matt had renewed tears in his eyes, "We-I did everything I could to make her proud. And it _never enough!_ "

Ignacio ruffled his hair, "Then live your life as _you_ want it, even if to show your mother, in the end, she had chosen to give up, for her to see her successful children and regret her actions at the very least; regret that _she_ had given that up, willingly."

Matt bit his lip, nodded furiously and buried his face back into Ignacio's chest.

"You're good with children," Miranda spoke softly, breaking her previous silence.

"Ah, I _am_ a father, after all." Ignacio replied, pride lacing his tone when he thought of his own children; Atticus and Zatanna, both of whom had gone over to their Grand-Aunt's for the day, so as to help Bonnie practice her magic, and Enzo, he knew had gone to meet a local contact a few towns over and would return in the early hours of morning if his business was concluded in a timely fashion.

A moment of silence where both children sniffled (or rather Matt sniffled and Vicki wiped her tears away furiously) before Miranda Gilbert asked,

"Who's Enzo? And _what_ network?"

Ignacio blinked slowly.

Right.

Miranda had no idea that her children knew of the supernatural, in fact, she probably did not even know of Elena's status as a doppelgänger.

Huh.

Time to rectify _that_ issue.

* * *

 ** _23rd December, 2007; Forbes Household, Mystic Falls; Virginia, United States of America._**

Caroline plastered a fake smile across her lips and opened her front door (momentarily shivering at the chilly breeze that seeped in).

"If _you're_ feeling cold, imagine how _we_ feel," Elena grumbled shuffling past her and into the warmth of her house.

"Ugh, d-ditto," Bonnie stammered rubbing her hands together and glancing at her gratefully when Caroline moved to the side.

"Pftt, it's just a cold," Vicki rolled her eyes, "Woman up."

Zee glanced at the Donovan in amusement, "I approve of that quote; it fills you with a sense of fulfillment."

"I know right?" Vicki slid off her thick woollen jacket just as Zee slipped by Caroline.

The blonde felt her smile become a little more genuine and she shut the front door quickly, lest the warmth of the house was affected. But as she turned back she felt her smile faltering when she found Zee staring at her speculatively.

"What's wrong?" The witch asked bluntly.

Caroline would _not_ cave to those eyes; those teal-sea green eyes that seemed to stare through your soul. She would also _not_ recall late-night arguments and hurtful accusations and confessions thrown about, she would, further, _not_ recall the grim (but inevitable) decision she was informed of by her parents. And she most certainly would _not_ think about the bitterness that had taken root in her heart.

Caroline's eyes filled with tears.

And Zee was there immediately, her arms wrapping themselves around Caroline's form and the blonde cried in the Spaniard's shoulder.

She dimly heard Elena and Bonnie voice their concerns but she was aware when more thin forms wrapped themselves around Zee and hers until they resembled a cocoon.

"This is nice and warm," Elena sighed in comfort just over her shoulder.

A few seconds of silence.

"Elena," Zee and Bonnie voiced out simultaneously and exasperatedly.

Vicki sniggered in her ear and Caroline couldn't stop the (slightly hysterical) laugh that bubbled through her own lips.

She pulled away from her friends and took a few deep breaths to calm herself down, but the truth was she was already feeling a whole lot better.

Warmth encompassed her insides as she looked into the quite concern lighting up Zee and Vicki's eyes and the more obvious one painting Bonnie and Elena's faces.

These were _her_ friends.

"Let's go up to my room," The silent message that she would explain soon enough was also conveyed.

She lead her friends to her room; it was, admittedly, crowded when all five of them shuffled in and dumped their overnight bags across the floor and seated themselves upon her bed (and with no space left for herself, she noted feeling slightly exasperated) before looking at her expectantly.

Caroline stared back at the four girls and took a moment to assess them

And found that she couldn't help but compare herself to all her friends, they were all just so special.

And Caroline felt guilty at the jealousy she felt when comparing herself to her friends. She couldn't help it, to be honest.

Elena was the bravest person she had ever known; after all, who would continue living their life, being fun-loving and optimistic while also knowing that they _would die_ in some sick ritual at the machinations of others, all because she shared a face with someone who started this whole mess (Amara or Katerina, take your pick). Caroline on the other hand, was rather pessimistic and self-centered and had a tendency to talk before thinking her words through, and it irritated people more often than not.

Vicki was so smart and confident, her intelligence and cunning seemed to attract people around her and when she talked, people listened with their full attention. She, herself, on the other hand, seemed to come off as shallow when she tried to seek attention (was that wrong? Seeking attention?).

Bonnie was such a reliable, loyal and self-assured person, her witty advice and faithful presence automatically made her seem like the most likable person there was. All Caroline seemed to do was drive people away, annoy them.

And Zee was simply on a level of her own; just _so_ beautiful and intellectual and poised; she was a _noble_ by birth and seemed untouchable, lounging in a place that remained unattainable.

Caroline felt unworthy in front of her friends. She felt insecure and foolish and vain. And none of them really needed her, did they?

"Care, we can't help you if you don't tell us anything," Bonnie spoke softly, her hazel-green eyes gentle and soft.

But Caroline _needed_ her friends.

And she suddenly felt ashamed of thinking such thoughts about her friends. Of being jealous of them.

"I'm a terrible person," She blurted, tears filling her eyes again.

Zee _stared_ at her. A proper stare where she seemed to look within her soul.

The fifteen-year old noble then narrowed her captivating eyes and pursed her lips.

"No," Zee looked dismayed and also seemed to want to hit something, "Caroline, please, _please_ tell me you're not feeling insecure."

It was Caroline's turn to stare at Zee, because somehow the Asturias witch had proved herself to be as insightful as she always was and had hit the nail right on top of the head.

"Insecure?" Elena sounded as surprised as Caroline felt, "Of what?"

Her genuine question and confusion at what could there possibly be that _Caroline_ was insecure of had anger and shame bursting through Caroline.

" _Yes_ , I'm insecure!" Caroline snapped, struggling with her ugly emotions, "How could I not be? And _yes,_ Zee, I'm a terrible person! After all, what kind of person is jealous of their own friends? What kind of a person does that make me?" She cried, tears springing forth and slipping from the corner of her eyes.

Zee's quiet and assured response had her falling speechless.

"It makes you human." Zee waved her hand dismissively as if Caroline was being foolish and before Caroline could snap back she was rendered speechless for the second time that night when Bonnie huffed out a laugh.

"That's it?" The Bennett witch rolled her eyes, "Come _on,_ Caroline, like that's a big deal. I get jealous of you guys too."

"I-what?"

Elena grinned, mirth filling her doe-brown eyes, "It's a natural response, dudette, I feel jealous of you guys loads of times too."

"Ew, Elena, do us all a favor and never use _dudette_ again." Vicki scowled.

"Seconded." Zee agreed, a lazy smirk twisting upon her curved pink lips.

"Wait, what…what do you guys have to be jealous of?" Caroline was _so_ confused. Here she was loathing herself for her feelings of envy and there her friends were easily admitting to being jealous, looking proud of it even.

"You're kidding right?" Bonnie looked incredulous, "Damn, Care, I'm jealous of Zee for being a magical prodigy and also being an Asturias; not having to answer to Nature must be a helluva experience, and I'm jealous of Elena for already snagging a guy-" She ignored Elena's vehement protests with a grin, "-I'm jealous of Vicki for having her whole life planned out and being so strong, I'm jealous of _you_ because you're always honest and beautiful."

"I'm petty and shallow," Caroline refuted.

"My turn," Elena grinned, "I'm jealous of Zee because she's gorgeous and smart and strong, I'm jealous of Vicki because she gets to live with Zee and Ace and Mister A and Enzo, I'm jealous of Bonnie cause she can do magic while I'm a stupid doppelgänger who's gonna die in the next few years and I'm jealous of you because you're _so_ confident and headstrong."

"Your turn," Zee nudged Vicki who rolled her eyes and gave an audible long-suffering sigh.

"I'm jealous of you all because you had positive maternal presences in your lives." Vicki deadpanned.

.

.

.

" _Dude!_ " Elena exclaimed, "Not cool."

"Yeah, you went dark pretty quickly." Bonnie looked disgruntled.

"I personally thought it was perfectly delivered." Zee looked mildly impressed.

Vicki grinned, "I live to please," She practically purred.

"Anyhow, it's my turn, I suppose," Zee tilted her head staring at Caroline with piercing eyes, "I envy _you_ the most Caroline, because you remind me of the sun, unwavering in its intensity and always a source of warmth and comfort, of course there are days where you're unbearably hot," She wiggled her eyebrows at the innuendo, "But you're a force to be reckoned with and somehow we all revolve around you."

Caroline crushed Zee into a bear hug because that was most heartfelt and _nicest_ thing anyone had ever said to her.

"Damn, that was better than ours by miles." Elena looked as if someone had gone out of their way to rob her.

"And gee, thanks Zee, nice to know _we_ matter too." Bonnie scowled.

"You're insignificant and _boring."_ Zee shrugged uncaringly, though her eyes glinted with mirthful mischief and she bumped her fist with Vicki's.

"I take it back, I'm _always_ jealous of people Zee likes." Bonnie admitted, "She's _my_ cousin and I'm a little more than possessive of her."

"Aw, _Seňorita Bonita,"_ Zatanna cooed mockingly, "You know I love you,"

"Screw you," Bonnie threw a pillow at her cousin's face.

"No, but seriously," Elena leaned forward until she was inches away from Zee's face, "How do you do it? Just use a few words and suddenly everything is right as rain?"

"It's a gift, _seňorita."_ Zee shoved the doppelgänger's face away, watching as she fell unceremoniously into a heap on the floor.

And Caroline, in the privacy of her own heart, disagreed with Zatanna. If anyone was the sun among them, if anyone had integrated themselves so seamlessly in their lives that they were all dependent upon them, without a fear that their trust would be betrayed; than it was Ace, Zee and Mister A.

Those three with their sarcastic yet assured smirks, their lazy yet perfect stances, their drawling yet fluent manner of speaking, their kind yet calculative shrewd eyes, their proud history yet sensible outlook, and their contained strength and powerful magic and sheer knowledge.

She knew that the Spanish family was not a kind family; she knew Zee and Ace and Enzo teamed up in their revenge pranks, she knew they all had unforgiving vindictive streaks, she also knew they were patient in their hunt of prey and were oh _so_ powerful.

They were aristocratic in every sense of the world. An almost otherworldly sense.

And somehow, it made them _all the more powerful._

The way they carried their strengths and faults. The way they acknowledged their faults and _made those faults_ into their strengths.

There powerful standing was a privilege offered and given to them, but it was a privilege they worked hard every day to earn and retain.

And that was true commanding influence; they acknowledged themselves completely and utterly.

"Now, that's out of the way," Vicki feigned relief, "Mind telling us what the real problem is?"

Caroline couldn't even find it in herself to be shocked anymore, "You could tell?" She smiled weakly.

This time all four of them stared at her unimpressed.

She winced, "Right…" Biting her lip, she wasn't sure how to explain.

"Caroline," Elena started, he voice low and soft, "Where are your parents?"

At the blonde's flinch, realization dawned on each of their faces (although, Zatanna looked grim more than anything).

"Where are they?" Bonnie repeated the doppelgänger's question.

"Mom's at the police station and Dad is…" Her lips quivered, "Probably with the g-guy he's been cheating with Mom on…f-for who knows _how long!_ "

The blonde gasped deeply and her hands quivered just as they did when her parents informed her of their imminent divorce.

"Oh, sweetling," Bonnie looked sympathetic and sorrowful, "Tell us everything,"

And so she did, Caroline told her of the recurring arguments and the accusations thrown about. She told them of her Dad coming out as being homosexual and admitting to cheating on her Mom with another man who had a daughter of his own, she even told them about the divorce that would be taking place soon.

"How could he _do_ that? Why would he cheat on Mom? Doesn't our life matter? Don't _I_ matter?" Caroline spit out the questions that had plagued her, "Wasn't _I_ enough for him, for them to stay together for? Do you think he cares for the other guy's daughter more than he does me?"

Zee reached over and smacked Caroline at the back of her head.

A pause as everyone stared at Zee's unimpressed face with varying degrees of emotions; ranging from Caroline's outrage to Vicki's amusement to Bonnie's exasperation and finally to Elena's hysteria.

Elena was the first one to give in as she turned her head to the side and wheezed in an attempt to control her laughter.

"What the fuck, Zee?" Caroline cursed, a move which was uncharacteristic of her, "I just poured my heart out."

"You're being a moron," Zee rolled her eyes, "This explains your insecurity too. You think you're not enough and therefore, having started judging yourself harshly and started comparing yourself to us."

Caroline's mouth fell open but she found she couldn't quite refute those claims. Because that had been _exactly_ what was going on. And now faced with the reality of it, she couldn't deny it.

Zee groaned and muttered something in Spanish under her breath before continuing in her rich, exotic accented voice, "Caroline, none of this is your fault, in fact when all of this was going on, you were probably the last thing on your parent's minds."

Ouch, Caroline would admit, that stung. And rather harshly at that.

"Oi," Zee snapped her fingers in front of Caroline's face, her tone annoyed now, "Don't act like a martyr, and you're fifteen not five. It's not all about you. Think for a moment, even if your parents had stayed together, do you think it would have changed the situation? The tenseness and hurt and accusations would always be present. The situation would never get better."

"Besides," Zee continued, her tone softening, "I don't excuse your parents, what your father did was an act of betrayal and infidelity and he should be ashamed of himself; but that's his call and his fault _not_ yours."

"But Mom was _so hurt_." Caroline cried, "I know Mom and I have been arguing for some time now but I _love her_."

" _Why_ exactly have you been arguing?" Zee narrowed her eyes and Caroline had this need to justify herself.

"Because, she never has time for me, it's always work this and work that." Caroline confessed, her inner resentments rising "I feel like…sometimes, I feel like she's a horrible mother."

Zee reached over and smacked the back of her head again.

"I agree with that one," Vicki piped in laughing bitterly, "Caroline, do you have any idea, just how _lucky_ you are?"

Caroline reared back, looking troubled.

"You have a mother, a god-honest loving mother who would do anything for you and whose only crime is she can't properly manage her time and you're going to throw that away for your petty resentments?" Vicki scowled at the floor, before looking up and staring into Caroline's sky-blue eyes with hard jade-greens, "Do you know that I would give up _everything_ just to have that?"

Caroline _sobbed_.

With all the arguments between her parents and her own questions about her self-worth she had been lashing out to her mother, hadn't she?

She had been cruel and had uttered harsh words in an attempt to relieve herself of her own frustrations all because of her _petty insecurities?_

She had been an awful, ungrateful _brat._

Her mother returned late every night from work (work from where she earned her money; money with which she fed Caroline and gave her clothes and other luxuries to possess), tired to the bone and she had somehow aged ten more years with all the arguments going on between herself and Caroline's father.

And Caroline had done nothing to make it easier for her.

Oh god, she had been horrible.

"Your parents love you, Care," Bonnie uttered pulling the blonde out of her newly realized revelations, "And you're mother especially so. But sometimes, people need to do things for themselves too, and you're mom _needs_ this divorce for _herself_."

"I'm such a selfish brat." Caroline muttered, she had been thinking only about herself and how the divorce would affect her, but what about the pain her parents, her mother more so, was going through?

"We're not excusing your own struggles, Care-Bear," Elena grinned cheerfully, "Seeing your parents get a divorce, that's an emotional struggle for everyone, the kids especially, but your Mom needs you more than ever right now."

Zee grinned when she saw realization painted across the blonde's face, "And you know the best part? As our parent's children, we possess the greatest ability to relieve them of their worries, to understand them, to judge who was right and who was wrong or whether it was a more complicated matter than that where both parties were at fault or no one was, to become their steadfast support…and believe me, that bears fruits all on its own. You just have to be strong enough and understanding enough to do it."

Caroline was so, _so_ thankful of her friends in that one moment; so thankful that they had given her this reality check. That they had made her feel better while also making her realize her own faults.

And when she heard the typical shuffling from the kitchen and her mother's quiet thoughtful mutters to herself, the blonde scrambled out of her room and barreled straight into her surprised mother's chest where she sobbed and muttered apologies.

 _"I love you so much,"_ She cried into her mother's shoulder barely aware of the strong arms that wrapped around her and the lips that pressed a kiss at the top of her head.

And then the emotional whisper in her ear,

"I love you, too, Caroline."

And everything seemed better than alright.

* * *

 ** _18th September, 2008; Asturias Household, Mystic Falls; Virginia, United States of America._**

Bonnie concentrated on the water poured into the spare flower pot and with a willful flick of her hand and by imagining what she wanted in her mind, the water lit up with flames licking its surface.

She aimed a triumphant grin in both her cousin's direction.

Atticus rolled his eyes fondly while Zatanna stuck her tongue out.

"Childish," Bonnie groused at the unenthusiastic response, "Besides, don't be judgy, I can't help it if I was born a Wiccan."

"Excuses," Her soon to be sixteen-year old cousin grinned, her eyes lifting up from the chemistry book she was reading, "You're descended from a powerful line of Wiccan's, the Bennett bloodline is regarded as Wiccan royalty, even if we _are_ related to Qetsiyah. At least _try_ to live up that legacy?"

"Bleh," Bonnie stuck her own tongue out.

"Mature, _Seňorita_ , real mature." Atticus, tall and handsome, flicked an unused pencil in her direction which Bonnie caught mid-air with her magic and with a flick of her finger sent it careening back towards her eighteen-year old cousin who, himself, blinked once, causing the piece of wood to be consumed in flames and burn until ashes fell by his feet.

"We'll probably always be better than you," Zatanna observed, a teasing smirk on her face as this had been a running gig among the three of them for years now.

"Yeah, yeah, rub it in why don't you?" Bonnie scowled, waving her hand and extinguishing the flames in the flowerpot, "Arrogant much?"

"Only for the right reasons, _querida prima._ " Atticus assured her, lounging back on the wicker garden chair.

"Bah," Bonnie fell back into the soft grass of the Asturias front yard, "My ass."

"Well, it _is_ a shapely behind, shortcake." Zatanna deadpanned.

Bonnie gave her a full view of her middle finger.

"Rude." Atticus huffed.

"Where's Enzo?" Bonnie rolled over on her front and rested her cheek against her folded arms, her legs rising in the air behind her and crossing at the ankles.

"Gone to meet a contact in Seattle. Vicki's keeping us updated." Zatanna informed.

Bonnie hummed and glanced at Atticus, "How's prep for your A-levels going?"

"It's going," Atticus shrugged, "I aim to get into Cambridge or Oxford in England, so I do need outstanding grades. Even so, hopefully these exams in May won't be a pain in _my_ behind."

"Doubtful, but with the amount of studying we've done since we were _born,_ I'd say we have a safe bet." Zatanna offered her brother silent comfort, both exchanging resentful glances aimed at the thought of their education and lessons regarding aristocracy.

"How about your O-level prep? These will be your final O-level exams right? You'll move onto A-level after?" Bonnie questioned, making her female cousin sigh tiredly.

"Yup, hurray for me," She groaned tiredly.

"Tough." Bonnie gave her cousins a saccharine smile.

She was awarded with matching scowls; it was so strange how both Atticus and Zatanna practically looked like twins; with their similar colorings; dark honey-brown strands, light olive skin and the Asturias eyes. Although, they did have a significant height difference, Atticus now standing at 6'2 and Zatanna at 5'8 (probably the tallest they were going to be), both were the tallest in their specific genders among their group of friends.

However with their similar smirks, same regal facial structures and captivating eyes; both were more twins than anything.

In fact, have both of them stand next to Uncle Ignacio, you wouldn't even see a difference; not in their features, nor in their demeanors. And certainly not in their behaviours.

She was relieved of further questioning when she sensed an ancient but commanding presence make itself known within the vicinity.

Atticus and Zatanna dropped their carefree exterior and stood, alert and calm, their eyes sweeping across the entire expanse of the yard, and their magic pushing outwards to see where there eyes could not.

Bonnie had gotten up from her lounging position as well and had taken a place by Atticus' side, closing her eyes to search for the intruder.

Where her cousins could instinctively and effortlessly control their magic, Bonnie had to put in conscious effort to accomplish what she set to do.

And as such she envisioned her magic pushing outwards and so it did, her connection to Nature opening and she could sense everything around her; which made it easy to pinpoint the tall male presence who stood within the surrounding thicket of trees, hidden in its shadows but also in plain sight.

Bonnie mentally stumbled once she noticed how Nature's magic seemed to bow in respect around the man's unconcerned form and unconcealed aura, cautious and respectful, the roots of Nature's magic hummed carefully around the man. As if Nature itself was _scared_ or at least, wary, of his presence.

With surprise, Bonnie realized she had only seen this happen to three other individuals; Zatanna, Atticus and Uncle Ignacio.

Was this man, whomever he was, also an Asturias? Perhaps, Uncle Ignacio's brother?

No, she refuted internally, his existence was an old one, something even Uncle Ignacio did not emit in his aura.

Atticus muttered in Spanish, glancing at his sister with incredulous awe.

And that shook Bonnie more than anything else could have, because whoever this mysterious person was, he seemed to have already captured the _undiluted respect_ of her Asturias cousins.

Her cousins who, while not arrogant, were also prideful, whose respect was very, _very_ hard-earned and this man seemed to have it in irrevocable measures.

That made Bonnie swallow thickly in anticipation.

And perhaps, sensing her unrestrained curiosity, the man chose to relieve her of it and stepped out of the boundary of trees.

Bonnie's breath hitched in her throat.

A tall form; perhaps as tall as Uncle Ignacio, gracefully _prowled_ across the yard. He carried himself with all the grace of an elite, a curious predator where he exuded contained intensity. Each step was measured and calculated, nothing he did seemed to be without a purpose. His hair lit up like copper rust flames in the sun's light, the reddish-brown color alight like a blaze.

His features reminded her off…Zatanna and Atticus' strangely enough, with those sculpted cheekbones and curved lips and even the straight Roman nose. And as he came closer, Bonnie felt her eyes widen in shock when she saw his eyes.

That drowning blend of the dark shades of teal swimming in an ocean of sea-green.

He was an Asturias; that much was certain.

Bonnie felt her confusion mounting when she saw both Atticus and Zatanna lowering their heads in a humble display of respect; it was the strangest sight she had encountered, with Atticus bowing and Zatanna curtseying low.

 _"Honrada sea, Vuestra Majestad,"_ Atticus announced calmly yet deferentially.

 _"Póngase de pie,"_ The mysterious Asturias spoke in the same fluent manner, where every word seemed to be specifically chosen so as not to be wasted, with which her cousins and uncle spoke; although, it was all the more pronounced. A manner of lazy ease in his speech that wasn't present in Zatanna or Atticus'.

Zatanna and Atticus lifted themselves from their bows and stood with their backs erect and postures impeccable. Zatanna had her hands folded demurely in front of her while Atticus had his wrists crossing at his back and both looked straight into their guest's(?) eyes.

 _"Puede llamarme, Henry, si lo desea."_ The auburn-headed man uttered softly, his heat titled to the side in the same action she had often seen her Spanish family members imitate; resembling a cat flicking its tail back and forth while evaluating the best way to capture its prey.

 _"Nosotros no seríamos capaces."_ Zatanna spoke in her usual assured manner, but the lazy drawl typically present in her impeccable speech was missing.

 _"Insisto en,"_ The man continued calmly.

A momentary silence as they stared at each other before her cousins acceded with a minute bow of their heads.

 _"Gracias, Seňor Henry."_ Zatanna intoned but Bonnie had stopped listening to her as at the same moment, the man turned his head towards her and his breathtaking eyes met Bonnie's much plainer hazel-green ones.

She blinked rapidly, unsure of what to do and glanced at her cousins for help. Both of them were staring at her expectantly and she felt her hackles rise because Bonnie did _not_ know what to do.

"I trust introductions are in order?" The mysterious man reverted to smooth British-accented English that left Bonnie both reeling at the immediate change and also swooning at his voice.

Atticus coughed meaningfully and widened his eyes at her, obviously signaling for her to do something.

Bonnie stared at him helplessly before glancing back at the man who was steadily looking more and more amused.

"What do you want me to do?" She finally hissed at her cousins both of whom looked exasperated.

"Bow, show some respect," Zatanna hissed back.

 _"Why?"_ She snapped confused.

Atticus looked close to groaning and Zatanna to face-palming. "Because that's _Henry!"_

"Henry _who?"_

Atticus looked affronted. " _Seňor Henry."_

"Who the _hell_ is that?" She shot back clueless.

"Our ancestor." Zatanna interjected, torn between amusement and embarrassment.

"Who now?"

Zatanna looked up at the sky and muttered something under her breath. "King Henry? Remember?"

Bonnie continued staring blankly before she turned to look at the man who had been identified as Henry, "They're horrible at explaining things," She spoke to him candidly and the man gave her an amused tilt of lips in response.

"A fact I find myself witnessing." Henry responded, his posture relaxed.

"Oh for the love of-" Atticus exhaled slowly before speaking through gritted teeth, "Remember our family tree? And the fact we're descended from King Henry the-"

"-the fifth of England," Bonnie completed, "Yeah, I remember, the guy whose dad was crazy weird and-"

Bonnie faltered as she blinked rapidly and snapped her head towards Mister Henry with renewed realization.

"No. way." Bonnie gaped at the _King(?)._

"Way," Atticus looked smug.

Bonnie stared for a moment longer before she shot forward invading the (much older) Asturias' personal space as question upon question left her lips.

"Oh my god, I can't believe–Is history really a hundred percent accurate? How old are you? What was your real son's name? How are you even alive? You're magic is so ancient, you must have so much knowledge! Can you tutor me? What if I-"

Zatanna had launched herself forward and she covered Bonnie's mouth with her hand looking entirely exasperated and fond.

"Of course, this would be your reaction, _Seňorita Bonita."_ Zatanna groaned.

Bonnie shoved the hand away from her mouth and stuck her tongue out her Asturias cousin, before she aimed a sheepish glance at Mister (King?) Henry.

"I'm sorry, I hope I haven't offended you." She bit her lip and apologized quickly.

Mister Henry chuckled deeply (Bonnie swooned) and gave her a small smile (her heart stuttered), "Not at all, thy enthusiasm is infectious."

Shit.

Bonnie was _so_ crushing on her cousins' ancestor.

Great.

Well, at least she had good taste.

"I hope you don't find it presumptuous of us to ask, but why _now_ have you chosen to reveal yourself, _Seňor Henry?"_ Zatanna ignore Bonnie's bright (and distinctly dreamy) smile as she chose to address her many times great-grandfather.

"Especially after so many years." Atticus agreed with his sister.

"Doth thee recall what I told thee many a year ago, during our first encounter?" He deflected their question with ease, his long fingers running over the surface of the silver band surrounding his ring finger of his left hand (a wedding band, her mind supplied with slight disappointment).

"As if we could forget such an eventful day and the occurred incidents." Atticus gave a slight smirk.

"I told thee I was a guardian of sorts, aye?"

Zatanna looked oddly (and curiously) embarrassed at that reminder and studiously ignored the amused look her brother shot her.

"You did," She nodded.

"As it is, it is now time for me to attend to mine own duties." Bonnie thought his old English way of speaking with obvious modern influences was awesome.

"Pardon me, but I don't quite understand." Atticus narrowed his eyes in contemplation, likely mulling over his ancestors words in his head.

"T'is a tradition among the members of our family," Mister Henry offered, now taking long strides towards one of the empty garden chairs, "A rare tradition, where our much learned ancestors or elders offer to be a source of guidance for the younger generation. T'is more often grandparents or parents who offer to guide the young ones but sometimes and rarely so, one of our ancestors chooses to be that source of leadership."

"Are you saying you _chose_ to guide us, to _teach_ us?" Zatanna sounded incredulous.

"Is thee surprised?" Mister Henry smirked and Bonnie's heart stopped once she recalled the _same_ smirk painted upon her Spanish relative's lips.

"Why?" Atticus asked, looking suddenly shrewd.

Mister Henry lounged back on the chair and drawled carelessly, "Thee have an interesting life ahead of ye and I very rarely come to guide mine own descendants, but let me assure thee, by the time I would have accomplished in teaching ye and imparting _mine own_ knowledge, thy greatness will be unparalleled."

"That did _not_ answer my question," Atticus looked –Bonnie blanched at the sight- overwhelmed.

"All will be revealed over time." Mister Henry shrugged. "I only waited this long to have thy magical knowledge develop and-" Here he glanced knowingly at Zatanna, "-to give thee an opportunity to form the basis of thy strategic planning."

Mister Henry then glanced at Bonnie and smiled warmly (she was sure she'd die of heart failure soon enough), "If thee wish to learn, thou art most welcomed, after all, thou art bonded to an Asturias, that makes thee a dear one."

Bonnie swelled with anticipation. She would be taught by a _King._

Zatanna swallowed. "You will… _teach_ us?"

And Mister Henry's smile was downright predatory as he responded,

"Every bit of knowledge I have."

* * *

 **Additional Information:** _thou_ \- singular informal, subject ( _Thou art here._ = _You are here._ )  
 _thee_ \- singular informal, object ( _He gave it to thee._ )  
 _ye_ \- plural or formal, subject  
 _you_ \- plural or formal, object

Furthermore; 'Thou' is historically perceived in Yorkshire (England) as being disrespectful, or over-familiar in a formal context, e.g; if used to address a teacher, or upon greeting a stranger. However, 'thee' is perceived to be more respectful. 'Art' and 'mine own' is translated as 'are' and 'my' respectively and used according to context.

All usage of historical accounts and the changes made to them are purely for the usage of this story. Also, the information about the TVD world explained in this chapter is taken from Wikia.

'Bonita' is basically the Spanish, Portuguese variant of the Scottish name 'Bonnie'. Both names have the same meaning; 'Pretty, cute, attractive.'

 **Also** , I would like clarify that any point of view given in this chapter regarding sensitive topics e.g Zatanna's point of view of being a soldier is her own interpretation of the idea, and is unique only to her and no one else.

Regarding, the noble title given to Ignacio Asturias; the title itself is real i.e 'Seňor of Lazcano; Lord of Lazcano' is a real title but it's usage in this story is entirely fictional. As far as I'm aware, in real life this title belongs to the Ducal House of el Infantado.

 **Edit:** Credits to the guest reviewer for clarifying who the title of Lazcano belongs to in real life.

Date of Births:

Ignacio Asturias: 12th May, 1968.

Pauline Bennett: 1st January, 1969.

Atticus Bennett-Asturias: 7th August, 1990.

Zatanna Bennett-Asturias: 31st October, 1992.

All other birthdays of canon characters are as have been listed according to Wikia, with the only exception being those who's birthdays have not been given, of which I shall take liberty of giving them specific dates of birth myself.

* * *

 **A/N:** This is forty Microsoft Word pages and, I swear, a pain in my arse to write. It's also **_hopelessly_** **_unedited_** , so _please_ excuse any mistakes. But I hope you all like it.

A further piece of good news would be that the AU of pilot episode is next chapter and you _might_ just see a glimpse of a certain Original.

Maybe.

If I'm feeling nice.

:)

Lol, anyways, thank you so much for your patience and support and positive feedback; trust me the reviews gave me the motivation to get of my lazy arse and type this all out.

Speaking of which; thank you _so_ much for all the views, favorites, follows and reviews.

I'd like to give my shout out thanks to: **Rose1414, Mad167, Wienberg, Kristina'sMyName** (You're the best person, love, how're you doing?), **Guest#1, Guest#2, Daughter of Trickery, Gallag-whore, saku hyuuga, DevilSurvivor, Guest#3, Twister60, lightwalnut64, shadowing, PrincessMagic, AlianaGabriellaWinchester17, timijaf, RebeliousOne, Queen of Darkness Oo, M1A, LadySeraph** (Hello amazing person, hope life's treating you well ;)), **Krislyngera, MoonlightMiracleSakurianaHime, Lexi, keikei313, The Darker Side of the World22, La'Rae and Ninjas Incorporated, Dezzi95, hexandvex, TheShortMuffin07, kitsunez00, ItaSaku1220** and **LadyAlexandraNoir.**

Thank you guys for leaving your reviews, I loved reading each and every one of them. So keep them coming ;). Just kidding (not really) but love you guys.

Also, would further like to thank; **lunersheza** and **InvasiveDream1** for adding this story into their respective communities; **Random Stuuff I Like** and **Worlds Appart.** Thank you so much.

Like/Favorite and Review/Comment, please. I respond to all reviews via PM.

* * *

 **Translations:**

 ** _Seňorita:_** _Miss._

 ** _Seňora Esther Mikaelson:_** _Madam Esther Mikaelson._

 ** _Seňorita Bonita:_** _Miss Bonita._

 ** _Tío Lázaro:_** _Uncle Lázaro._

 ** _Cállate:_** _Shut up._

 ** _Seňor Lockwood:_** _Mister Lockwood._

 ** _Querido:_** _Dearest/Darling._

 ** _Querida hermana:_** _Sister dear/dearest or Dearest/dear sister._

 ** _Hijos míos:_** _My children or Children mine._

 ** _Pequeňa seňorita:_** _Little Miss._

 ** _Hermana:_** _Sister._

 ** _Seňora Gilbert:_** _Madam Gilbert._

 ** _Querida prima:_** _Cousin dear/dearest or Dearest/dear cousin._

 ** _Honrada sea, Vuestra Majestad:_** _Honored greetings, Your Majesty._

 ** _Póngase de pie:_** _Rise or Stand up._

 ** _Puede llamarme, Henry, si lo desea:_** _You may call me, Henry, if you like._

 ** _Nosotros no seríamos capaces:_** _We would not dare._

 ** _Insisto en:_** _I insist._

 ** _Gracias, Seňor Henry:_** _Thank you, Sir Henry._

 **Note:** All translations were taken with the help of Google. If there are any mistakes, I would like to apologize as I do not know how to speak the language.

* * *

 _"Mors nobis favet; Death favors us."_

 ** _-The Asturias Family Motto-_**

* * *

 **Disclaimer** : This is a work of fanfiction; I do not claim any ownership over any characters, situations or anything of relation from the TVD world. I do, however, own the Asturias Family, anything related to them, any other Original-Character introduced and the plot of this particular story.


	10. Chapter VIII:

**Warnings:** Language, PTSD, Death, Violence, Morbid jokes and Dark humor that might offend others e.g. jokes on contemplation of suicide, these are just used to describe the rather morbid sense of humor the character/s may have and are in no means used to offend anyone or make light of the serious topics that may be mentioned. For any sensitive topic used in a joke, I apologize in advance and hope you keep in mind I meant no offense.

 **Note:** The dialogues in Italic show that the speakers are either a form of flashbacks or communicating in a different language, in this case spanish.

* * *

 **Vision: Definition:** ** _(Noun) 1. The ability to think about or plan the future with imagination or wisdom. 2._** ** _An experience of seeing someone or something in a dream or trance, or as a supernatural apparition._**

 ** _'I have had a most rare vision. I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was.'_**

 **-William Shakespeare-**

 ** _'~Had to have high, high hopes for a living, Shooting for the stars when I couldn't make a killing, Didn't have a dime but I always had a vision, Always had high, high hopes.~'_**

 **-High Hopes; Panic! at the Disco-**

* * *

 **Chapter VIII:**

 ** _23_** ** _rd_** ** _May, 2009; Gilbert Household, Mystic Falls; Virginia, United States of America._**

Elena Gilbert was _not_ pouting.

Zee's amused expression, however, begged to differ.

"I hate you." The doppelgänger made a great display of showing her displeasure. Bottom lip jut outwards, eyes widened in an exaggerated manner and head tilted to the side.

Zee grinned cheerfully and absolutely unaffected, _"Good for you. Now you know how we all feel when you start telling those horrible jokes of yours."_

Elena squawked, "They're _not_ horrible."

 _"Right."_ Zee looked nothing short of unimpressed, her voice distorted with slight static.

Elena rolled her eyes, before eyeing the image of her friend through her Laptop's screen with no short amount of nervousness. The Asturias witch was ambling around her room (it was larger than Elena's living room, _what_ even-?) in her Spanish family manor (or was it a castle? Elena couldn't really remember) and she stopped every now and then to stare through the computer screen with those flat yet amused expressions of hers.

"What are you even doing?" Elena frowned watching as Zee walked out of the screen again (God bless whoever created Skype).

 _"Preparing."_ Came Zee's ominous yet sarcastic reply from wherever she was in the room.

Elena _swore_ she rolled her eyes so hard that the muscles behind said eyes strained. Because _ouch, damn it._

"No, but seriously, are you going somewhere?" Elena asked curiously, barely blinking when her room door opened and Jeremy poked his head inside.

Her brother (because he _was_ her brother, adoption be damned) grinned when he noticed she was video chatting with Zee and took three long steps through her _stylishly_ (no matter what her friends said; Bugs Bunny bedspreads, and Daffy Duck rugs were _so_ in fashion) decorated room and plopped down on her bed, shoving her away and hogging the screen all to himself.

Bitch.

"Hey, Zee, what's up?" Jeremy grinned widely, lying upon the bed on his front with his long legs kicked up in the air.

Zee poked her head back in the screen and Elena smothered a laugh at the comical sight it presented.

 _"Hola, Jeremy,"_ She grinned at him, before disappearing from the screen again, _"And nothing much, I intend to fly over to Cádiz; officially to attend a noble wedding next week and unofficially to meet a few contacts."_

"Oi," Elena scowled, jumping on her brother's back making him wheeze at the added weight. "Why does _he_ get a straight answer yet I don't?"

 _"Easy,"_ Came the usual laid-back drawl, _"I like him better."_

Jeremy smirked smugly.

Elena responded ever so maturely and shoved him off her bed.

 _"What of you? Do you have any plans of interest for today?"_ Zee asked curiously and both siblings watched (amused) as a clothing article flew through the air plopping somewhere on the floor.

"Probably," Jeremy heaved himself over the side of her bed and, in retaliation to her previous actions, plopped himself over his sister making the doppelgänger gasp, "Aunt Jenna's visiting, and if all goes to plan, Mom might convince her to move in with us."

Elena shoved her elbow in her brother's stomach making him groan and then proceeded to kick him off her, "Yeah," She continued, scowling at Jeremy, "We might have a family night but there's also a bonfire party tonight… _Sooo_ , we _might_ go there too."

There was a sudden silence and the siblings heard no sound of Zee's previous movements.

The noble Spaniard walked back into sight and seated herself in front of the computer screen, looking suddenly serious and thoughtful.

 _"I did not think it would be today…"_ She muttered to herself before pinning them with a severe look.

"What's wrong?" Jeremy asked, frowning deeply.

Zee's stare suddenly turned calculative, and she was obviously thinking very hard. Elena took this time to cast an appreciative glance over her best friend.

Zatanna Bennett-Asturias had always been a striking beauty, in her opinion that is (barring those years during their puberty where the witch had been plagued with constant pimples, those had been downright _hilarious_ ).

Zee was tall, standing at 5'8, but not exceptionally so. However, she was the tallest in the females of their band of friends. It was also tall enough, that it brought immediate emphasis to her long legs. She also had a toned body structure which brought prominence to Zee's athletic and elegantly slender form.

Zee's face was beautifully carved, Elena thought as her eyes lingered on the high sculpted cheekbones, the curved lips that always twisted in a secret smirk, the softly arched brows, and the slight slant of her captivating eyes.

Her hair was currently twisted in an effortless braid with wisps of dark honey brown strands escaping its confines and framing her face. The color of her hair suited her soft olive skin, and Elena thought that the only identifiable difference between Zee, Mister A and Ace (apart from the variances in height) was that Mister A had a certain maturity to his face and both he and Ace had slightly stronger facial planes than Zee; who possessed a softer outlook.

Elena found herself rather jealous of their beauty.

 _"I need you to do something."_ Zee's serious voice snapped the doppelgänger out of her musings.

Jeremy exchanged a glance with her before repeating his previous question, "What's wrong?"

 _"Nothing wrong, per se,"_ Zee mused, _"We all know that Damon Salvatore will likely arrive in Mystic Falls this summer, yes?"_

"Duh," Elena rolled her eyes, and repressed the agitation filtering through her with practiced ease; it was a habit she had long mastered, "Because of the comet that's gonna pass and it charging up Emily's talisman locket to unlock the tomb yada yada yada…"

 _"Eloquently put,"_ Zee spoke with dry sarcasm, _"Anyways, Stefan Salvatore is also due for a visit, in fact he'll first arrive here_ _ **today**_ _."_

Jeremy frowned, "How do you know?"

Zee tilted her head to the side before she sighed deeply and said, _"Do you want a convenient lie? Because I'm afraid the truth is something I cannot tell you."_

In that one moment, strange as it was, Elena appreciated the honesty shown towards them. Fact remained, Zee and her family had never outright lied to them. Omitted the truth, yes, but they always made sure to say as such.

They were intelligent and cunning, but they were also trustworthy.

Elena knew that once you had their loyalty (rare as it was), the Asturias would do anything for you and hadn't they already? They had been preparing them all with plans and strategies and contingencies upon contingencies for _years_ now. Equipped them with all the knowledge and weapons they could possibly need.

If there was one thing Elena (and the rest of their gang) knew, it was that they could always trust their Spanish friends.

They had never given them a reason otherwise.

Perhaps Jeremy had the same train of thought, because he rolled his eyes fondly and offered his friend a half-smile, "Sure, its fine Zee, I'm curious, but its fine."

Zee looked mildly grateful at their understanding and Elena almost scoffed out loud. As if they could show anything less for one of the people who had done everything to ensure their safeties.

 _"As I was saying,"_ Zee continued, _"Damon, I suspect, will also arrive today, although both siblings will remain sparse the entire summer."_

Elena and Jeremy now listened intently, a sudden ball of anxiety opening up in the female Gilbert's chest; it seemed that it had begun.

 _"I know that Damon has an incentive to stay in Mystic Falls, so he's not the worry,"_ Zee spoke, her brows furrowed downwards, _"The problem is Stefan, he's probably visiting his nephew; Zachary Salvatore, but I want to make sure he stays."_

Elena could feel her heart beating faster, it was happening, oh god, it was happening.

She had always known that Damon Salvatore would arrive some time in this year, because Zee and Ace had informed them that he was desperate to get Katerina –whom he thought was trapped in the tomb, out.

And for that, he needed to charge up Emily's crystal pendent with the help of the comet that would pass over Mystic Falls for the first time in over a hundred and sixty years; a moment he had been waiting for the same amount of time (poor guy, because, damn, her ancestor was a bitch).

But the fact remained that his arrival had started the chain reaction.

That is, if Klaus wasn't already aware of her presence, he would be soon since there was going to be a definite increase in supernatural activities in Mystic Falls (which was conveniently also the Originals birthplace…joy).

Elena closed her eyes and breathed deeply, it would be fine, she remembered Mister A's promise. She knew they would ensure she lived but…

…She would have to die first.

The doppelgänger tried hard to stifle the sudden panic rising.

 _"Elena,"_ Zee's sharp voice had Elena opening her eyes and staring at the laptop screen, and even through the screen, she could see the calm assurance lining the Spaniard's eyes. _"I swear to you,"_ She repeated the words she had spoken long ago, words her father and brother had reiterated. _"You will be fine."_

The panic slowly calmed because when Zee said it, Elena believed her.

Jeremy wrapped his arm around her shoulder and squeezed tightly, "Okay, but we know that the traveler spell Markos did, ensures that Stefan, being the doppelgänger of Silas, would most probably already be somehow attracted to return to Mystic Falls, because of Elena's presence here. So why do we need to draw him out, when that might be inevitable as it is?"

Zee looked so proud of Jeremy that Elena felt both jealous and pleased for her brother; Jeremy had always been a smart one.

 _"Two things, Seňor,"_ Zee held up two fingers, _"First, the spell is probably not all that reliable. After all, we know that there is another living human doppelgänger of Silas; Seňor Thomas Avery. His current location is in Atlanta, Georgia; and while he's close, he has felt no need to come to Mystic Falls; I know because we have him under observation. And he's also under the protection of witches so as to prevent him from falling into the hands of the Travelers."_

 _"Second, the spell Markos casted has indeed ensured that both doppelgänger lineages are relatively close to each other; Atlanta, and therefore Seňor Avery is three or four hours away from Mystic Falls. But I don't want_ _ **Stefan**_ _to be relatively close. I want him_ _ **here,**_ _in Mystic Falls, with his brother."_

Zee's lips curling upwards was more a feral, feline baring of teeth rather than a grin.

 _"After all,"_ She purred, _"Keep your friends close but-"_

"-Your enemies _closer_." Jeremy completed, understanding flashing over his face. "This town is going to be a supernatural shit storm for the next few years and it would better to have everyone within sights then remain unaware."

 _"Exactly."_ Zee grinned.

"Okay, so what do you need us to do for tonight?" Elena asked seriously.

 _"I want you to have Enzo take you to the bonfire for an hour. I'll tell him to keep out of sights but do remind him of that too, Elena. If he catches glimpse of Damon, I worry it might trigger some response."_

Elena nodded knowingly, Enzo had told them that he had been captured and tortured by some group of self-righteous lunatics and that when an opportunity of escape had arisen, Damon Salvatore had betrayed him and left him to die.

It angered her, because Enzo was the _best_ person ever. Mischievous yet gentlemanly, dangerous and in a contradicting manner, he was kind as well. He carried himself with a certain feral likeliness and was rather detached as well, but Elena had always seen him come alive when he was surrounded by the Asturias. He was charismatic and unbelievably optimistic and while his loyalty was hard earned, it was well worth the effort.

But the one thing –the one lesson, Enzo had often murmured about during the group therapy sessions with a faraway look in his eyes, a wisdom he imparted that Elena had made her life's defining purpose was to always hope.

 _"When you have nothing at all, and find yourself helpless and surrounded in pain, misery and darkness; you will discover that you're only source of comfort is knowing that even when trapped in that fathomless tunnel of loneliness and helplessness, there is always light at the end of it. There is always hope,"_ Enzo had once said a few years back, his eyes distant as if lost in a far off memory, _"Because if you let go of that, you will find yourself lost forever. A simple shell that no longer has a purpose."_

Those words had hit Elena through her heart, and she was determined, no matter what would happen in her life – _with_ her life, she would always be happy and cheerful and _hopeful._

Enzo had survived approximately _sixty_ years of torture with only optimistic hope as his defining characteristic. If he could –had– done that, then Elena could damn well live her own crazy and awesome as hell life with grateful happiness at being blessed with that.

 _"Elena, you need to be in plain sight, I just want to make sure, that if Stefan is indeed anywhere near the vicinity, he sees you."_ Zee's voice snapped her out of her thoughts, _"Be honest with Seňora Miranda about your whereabouts and reasoning. But make sure to tell her not to come pick you up, Enzo will do the courtesy of dropping you back home."_

Those were specific instructions, but Elena had long learned not to question it.

Sending a sudden mischievous glance at Zee and her, Jeremy curved around Elena and bellowed loudly, _"MOM!_ Come quick, we have something to tell you!"

A sudden silence throughout the entire house before they heard hurried, thumping steps climbing the stairs and the door to Elena's room slammed open. Their mother stood in the doorway with wide alert eyes scanning the room and her children with rather precise and frightening precision.

God, Elena loved her mother.

"What happened?" She sounded a little out of breath and Elena could see, her mother was visibly trying to calm herself.

 _"Hola, Seňora Miranda."_ Zee greeted through the screen, her static filled voice filtering through the air.

Their mother's eyes –beautiful moss green- sharpened and focused on the laptop, she walked forward so that she stand by her children, and peered at the screen with a welcoming smile.

"Hi, Zatanna, how are you sweetie?" She spoke softly.

 _"Quite well, thank you for your concern,"_ Zee grinned, _"And you?"_

"I'm great," The woman responded before looking worried as she turned to glance at her children, "Is everything all right?"

 _"Elena and Jeremy shall give you all the necessary details, Seňora,"_ Zee said, glancing at her wrist watch, _"I do need to leave, I have multiple engagements to see to, but before I go; you all are ingesting_ _ **and**_ _wearing vervain, are you not?"_

"A strict rule, I've enforced," Their mother responded, smiling at the Asturias witch fondly.

Having her mother knowing about everything brought great relief to Elena.

It was also a source of amusement between Jeremy and her, because according to the Donovan siblings, who had been present when Mister A had sprung the news upon her mother (it was the day their own mother, Kelly Donovan, had walked out on them); the Asturias patriarch had bluntly stated, 'Your daughter is a doppelgänger and will likely have to die in a magical ritual.'

When Vicki had first recounted this, a small, borderline sadistic smile on her face, she had also claimed that Miranda Gilbert had blinked then gaped like a fish before going deathly white and simply _stared_ at the cheerfully smiling aristocrat.

Elena had snorted at that because she knew exactly how dangerous those _supposed_ cheerful grins looked.

Matt then ruefully stated that Mister A had excused them and while Vicki and he had tried to listen in (Zee and Ace had looked so gleeful at that), they suspected the man had put a silencing spell in the room (which sucked).

And Elena was so curious about what had happened because according to her friends, her mother and the Asturias patriarch were in the room for an exact three hours before Miranda Gilbert had stepped out of the room with bloodshot eyes, pursed lips and an entirely determined expression.

She had then turned to Ignacio Asturias, who himself regarded the woman with vaguely apparent respect and reassurance, and thanked him in an even tone of voice before smiling tightly at Vicki and Matt, and the dark-haired woman left the house, her gait resolute and unwavering.

Elena could fill the blanks as to what happened next, because she remembered her mother coming home and gathering both her children in her arms as she spoke softly in their ears.

Elena remembered the private words that were meant for their ears only, she remembered the strange suffocating burden lifting from her shoulders and she remembered collapsing against her mother and brother in boneless relief.

Privately, she was also grateful Mister A had told her mother, because she didn't know what he said but her mother looked like a fierce mother bear who would do absolutely _anything_ for her children; strong, stubborn and _accepting_.

After her subsequent revelation to the truth of the supernatural nature of her daughter and more knowledge then she had been previously aware of about the mystical communities of the world, Elena vaguely recalled her mother leaving a message for her uncle (biological father but as far as Elena cared, he could go throw himself of a cliff).

And when Uncle John arrived, looking panicked and ruffled at Miranda's vague and worrying message; he found himself sprawled on the floor with a broken nose and dislocated jaw –because damn, apparently having a frying pan slammed to your face hurt like a bitch- with his sister-in-law standing over him like some female spirit of vengeance and his biological daughter and nephew collapsing against each other in laughter.

Miranda had then calmly lifted her foot and slammed it down upon his private parts, and as John lay down on the floor groaning and curling in on himself, Miranda had smiled serenely and informed him he was no longer welcome in their house and he was one selfish son of a bitch.

Because all that ran through her beautiful mother's mind was that John Gilbert had _known_ and had said nothing and only had his own dubious schemes to protect Elena (or so he thought).

As far as the widow was concerned, he had foolishly put her children and friends in danger.

Elena _loved_ her mom.

"Speaking of vervain,' Jeremy lit up, "I had an idea about that, _and_ I've been talking to Bonnie about it, too."

Elena turned to her brother affronted that he wouldn't share his idea with her first. It's not like she was his sister.

Zee looked curious as she gave Jeremy her full attention.

The young Gilbert sent a brief, nervous glance in his mother's direction, before saying;

"Well we were thinking about the unreliability of wearing vervain, even if we have it stitched into our clothes, a vampire could discover it by scent; if they have particularly good and attuned senses; which I'm sure the Originals do. _And_ we could always be drained of the vervain that's in our systems. So, we thought of a way around that."

 _"Do share,"_ Zee looked intrigued.

"Vervain-laced ink tattoos. Something we all have, besides, those tattoos are permanent and it doesn't matter if we need to wear vervain or ingest it…and…well, Bonnie told just in case something happens to anyone of us," And here the young teenager's voice sounded tight, and Elena knew he was talking about in case anyone of them might be turned into Vampires or in Tyler's case werewolves, "She could lace the vervain out of the tattoos, so we have no issue there."

Zee _stared_ at Jeremy through genuinely admiring and impressed eyes and Elena noticed her brother flush in embarrassment at the sudden attention he received.

 _"That is absolutely brilliant,"_ Zee sounded astounded, _"The fact that both of you gave such deep thought to it and-"_ Zee's eyes turned sharp, _"You also took time to critically think about any consequences and how to move around them, that is truly admiring."_

"Taught by the best, Zee," Jeremy gave a half-smile, "Besides we can't afford not to think about the consequences."

Zee inspected Jeremy's face before returning his smile with a playful one of her own, _"No we cannot."_ She agreed.

Daring a glance towards their mother, Elena found her staring at Jeremy with a half-sad and partly proud smile. She could easily here the thoughts going through her mother's mind.

No doubt pertaining to how they were too young to be so pragmatic in their thinking, to be burdened with the responsibilities about the shit-storm that was about to hit Mystic Falls.

But Elena knew that the Spaniards were right as well; they couldn't _afford_ not being realistic or ignorant. Not when most of them were connected to the supernatural world in one way or another.

Miranda sighed deeply, reaching out to smooth back her son's hair, and where usually Jeremy would shy away while playfully scowling at their mother, this time he stayed still; perhaps, it was because he could read the melancholic sentiments dancing across their mother's features.

Zee was staring at their mother with insightful eyes and spoke solemnly, _"I swore to them, and I swear to you as well, Seňora Miranda, I will do everything I can to make sure your children survive this. But I cannot guarantee they will come out unscathed."_ She informed honestly.

"I know," The widow closed her eyes, breathed deeply, before opening them and smiling at Zee, "I wish this didn't have to happen to them, but I know. And I know that their best chance of survival is to have you and your family by their sides."

 _"They don't only need us,"_ Zee corrected gently, _"They need you as well, to know that you will be present, a constant, Seňora, you are their mother, and they need you more than they could need anyone else."_

Elena's heart hitched at the breathtaking smile their mother gave Zee.

 _"Now, if you will excuse me, I need to leave,"_ Zee grinned, pushing dark honey brown strands behind her ear, _"Remember what I told you, be cautious, and use your minds. If you find any trouble, know Enzo is there."_

"Bye Zee," Elena and Jeremy chorused together before the Skype call ended.

"Alright, run me through what's happening." Their mother took a seat opposite of them, and looked attentive with deep moss-greens focused entirely on them.

Elena squashed the sudden hysterical urge to laugh and nudged Jeremy to repeat their (read: Zee's) awesome, _diabolical_ (Elena sounded sarcastic even in her head) scheme to get Stefan to stay in Mystic Falls.

(Although, she kind of wanted to whine at the implication that the martyr-complexed vampire would stay only because he saw her face. What a creep.)

* * *

 ** _10_** ** _th_** ** _June, 2009; City of Cádiz, Province of Cádiz; Autonomous Community of Andalusia, Spain._**

Zatanna was being followed.

It was a pathetic attempt at that, and the witch fought not to make it apparent that she was _well-aware_ of the woman who seemed to walk with a heavy, almost drunken gait behind her.

Hearing a muttered curse, the Asturias witch finally stopped; and closing her eyes behind her sunglasses momentarily, she exhaled deeply through her nose.

Zatanna then pivoted on her heel and stared utterly unimpressed at the woman who was attempting to hide behind a fucking _lamp post_.

It was also kind of hilarious.

 _"Seňora, May I ask why you insist upon following me?"_ Zatanna raised an eyebrow, and spoke in her mother tongue.

 _"What?"_ The woman, probably in her early thirties, looked falsely surprised and spoke much too loudly, in what Zatanna recognized as the Basque dialect of their language.

Which, for a moment, made Zatanna blink; because as south as they were, it was rare to hear anyone speaking Euskarian i.e Basque. A language that was predominantly spoken in the Basque country of Spain.

Zatanna and her family primarily conversed in Castilian (or commonly referred to as Spanish by the rest of the world), but were also fluent in all other dialects spoken in their country; Catalan (because, obviously, they lived in Barcelona, the capital of Catalonia), Galician, Basque and even the Aranese dialect.

This was mainly for the reason that they were noble Spaniards, who held great pride in their heritage, and also because their father encouraged the cultural unity of their country and made sure his children were well versed in communicating in all the vernaculars of their country.

 _"What are you talking about, Seňorita? I ain't following no one."_ She scoffed dramatically.

Zatanna _stared_.

Who the hell _was_ this unfortunate soul?

The woman fidgeted under her indifferent gaze and Zatanna could literally _see_ her crack before the woman burst forth,

 _"I'm sorry! I was just…are you, by any chance, Vira Annett?"_ The woman wringed her hands together, before wincing and clutching her head, all while muttering something about her hangover.

Zatanna tilted her head to the side and inspected the woman with realization before she let an easy-going and amused smile twist upon her lips.

 _"Sí,"_ She spoke smoothly, reverting effortlessly to Basque, and walked forward to offer the raven-haired woman her hand, _"You must be Seňora Paula Blanco, yes?"_

The woman looked relieved that she was not mistaken and grasped Zatanna's offered hand in a clumsy grip, _"Sí, that is my name. I was not sure I had identified the right person, but Seňor Juan assured me the woman I was looking for had idiota stitched into their jacket."_

Zatanna blinked, and then in appalled irritation craned her head backwards to glance at the embroidered design taking its place on the back of her sleeveless denim jacket.

And would you look at that? Stitched vertically within the embroidered ensemble of deep red roses were discreet letters spelling the exact word _Seňora_ Paula had been told to look for.

Enraged, Zatanna thought this perfectly explained why Enzo had been distracting her via Skype video call just an hour earlier. While she was getting ready to meet their contact, Enzo had been giving her a rundown of important details about the witch coven inhabiting the port city of _Cádiz._

He had just been telling her (in a worryingly detached manner, at that) about he had Zachary Salvatore under compulsion and spying on Stefan Salvatore (who had, after having taken the bait that was Elena on the night of the bonfire, decided to stay in Mystic Falls to sate his curiosity) and also about how he had one of his homeless contacts keeping an eye on Damon Salvatore's movements.

Enzo had suddenly commented that she wear the jacket he had mailed her as a gift (which, by the way, was suspicious in itself, because _why?_ ) and after narrowing her eyes at him suspiciously she pulled said jacket (which was a lovely faded blue in color) out of its packing and before she could inspect it properly, her adopted vampire brother had the audacity to guilt trip her.

And this was done all while actively knowing that _she,_ herself, knew that he _was_ , in fact, attempting to emotionally blackmail her.

 _"You would hurt my feelings? Especially with the sheer betrayal, sorrow, and anger I feel with Damon's presence in Mystic Falls? Knowing that I have to_ _ **wait**_ _to have my justice? Would you be so cruel as to further throw my thoroughly stunted emotions into the wind? As if they do not matter?"_ He had said, barely veiled sarcasm coating his tone, as he gasped in an exaggerated manner.

 _"You are such a manipulative mierda."_ She had responded with a thunderous scowl.

 _"Thank you, love,"_ Enzo gave a shit-eating grin, _"And aren't you getting late?"_

With a curse she had glanced at the clock and slipped on the jacket all while sending a dark glare in the vampire's direction.

 _"And remember, just walk around the general vicinity of the Plaza de San Antonio, the contact will find you herself."_ He informed her again.

 _"Sí, sí, I heard you the first time,"_ Zatanna nodded before smiling in farewell and cutting off the call.

And now staring at the back of her jacket with rising bemused outrage, Zatanna accepted the challenge Enzo had presented. The prank war had most definitely commenced.

 _"Bastardo,"_ She muttered aloud, before glancing back at her amused audience.

 _"Forgive me, my brother has a pathetic sense of humor,"_ She smiled thinly at the woman, _"But let us leave that be. As I understand it, you have the information I require?"_

Unease flashed over _Seňora_ Paula's face, _"Sí, Seňorita,"_ She glanced around their surrounding with growing paranoia, _"Follow me, please."_

Zatanna fell into step with _Seňora_ Paula and both strolled casually through the streets and took in the aesthetically pleasing sights.

 _"I can arrange a meeting of sorts between you and the Rubio family, who lead the witch coven of Cádiz,"_ She admitted, her bloodshot dark eyes darting from one direction to the other nervously, Zatanna pretended not to notice the smell of alcohol emanating from the woman's breath, _"That is, I can tell you where they usually meet and the head of the coven; Valentina Rubio, is surely to be present."_

 _"Good,"_ Zatanna nodded, feeling intrigued, she had heard _much_ about the coven of _Cádiz, "Tell me everything you know."_

 _"Are…are you certain you wish to meet them, Seňorita Annett?" Seňora_ Paula looked concerned, _"They are a dangerous coven, and they meet, often, beneath La Casa de los Espejos."_

Zatanna tilted her head in interest.

 _La Casa de los Espejos._

 _The House of Mirrors._

The resident haunted house of _Cádiz._

Fitting it would be the meeting place for a witch coven.

 _"Seňorita Annett?"_ _Seňora_ Paula's inquiring and wary voice pulled Zatanna from her musings.

Momentarily distracted, her lips tugged into an amused smirk at the sound of her false name. Enzo had come up with a fabricated name for each of them (that is herself, Enzo and Atticus) when needed while meeting their contacts; it was easy to remember and also served as an inside joke.

To their contacts, Enzo and the Asturias siblings were known as; Juan Annett and his little siblings, Tom and Vira Annett.

Juan had been taken from Enzo's last name St. John, Tom and Vira were derived from both Atticus and Zatanna's middle names –Tomás and Elvira, and Annett had been a fusion of Asturias and Bennett.

It had been simple and ridiculously hilarious for some reason.

 _"Just thinking, Seňora Paula, worry not,"_ Zatanna offered with a quick smile, her thoughts shifting through the information given to her, _"Do they meet elsewhere?"_

 _"Sí," Seňora_ Paula frowned, _"There is a large abandoned building in the Plaza de San Agustín near where the Hotel Senator is located, there are many strange happenings said to occur there. I've discovered it is more often than not a meeting place for the coven as well."_

Zatanna nodded thoughtfully and sent an appreciative smile in the older woman's direction, _"I appreciate the lengths you have gone to gather the information I needed. I would like to inquire one last thing before we conclude our meeting. Do you know when they will next meet, Seňora?"_

 _Seňora_ Paula nodded, unease flashing through her face again, _"They will met during the next full moon, which is –"_

 _"In two days…"_ Zatanna completed, her eyes straying to the two children running and playing in front of them, _"I see,"_ She stopped walking and turned towards the woman who had done the same, _"You have my thanks, Seňora."_

 _Seňora_ Paula bowed her head in acceptance before looking up abashed, _"Eh, Seňorita, I was…well, I was wondering…"_ She looked uncomfortable as she trailed off.

 _"Fret not,"_ Zatanna gave her an amused smile, _"You want your payment? No need to be embarrassed, Seňora."_

The Asturias witch dug through her ruck sack and pulled out a small pouch; opening it she brought out the small, spelled piece of lapis lazuli jewelry.

 _Seňora_ Paula eyed the locket with blatant sadness crossing over her face and smiled gratefully at the noble witch.

Zatanna knew _Seňora_ Paula was no vampire, she was not even a werewolf or witch.

Enzo had informed her that she had been the wife of a hunter; a year back she had lost said husband after he had presumed to attempt to hunt a group of vampires on his own. The vampires, after turning their only daughter (an aspiring eighteen year old) into a vampire, ruthlessly slaughtered the man and left his remains and the daughter at _Seňora_ Paula's doorstep.

She was doing everything she could for her daughter, and Zatanna respected that more than anything.

 _"Gracías, Seňorita Annett."_ She spoke tiredly, and grabbed the locket almost reverently.

 _"Think nothing of it,"_ Zatanna waved a hand, _"You have given me valuable information, and fear not, my brothers and I always hold our end of the bargain."_

 _Seňora_ Paula gave her a wobbly smile in return before she finally excused herself, walking away with what Zatanna recognized as an image of beaten down woman doing her best to hold it together.

The noble-born witch was suddenly reminded of the cruel, _cruel_ world they lived in.

And the grim realization, that her own actions were and would be morally ambiguous and forbidding still.

Accompanying this fact was the thought that she simply didn't _care._

 _How utterly sad._

* * *

Zatanna had scouted both _La Casa de los Espejos_ and the abandoned building near Hotel Senator in _Plaza de San Agustín_ before she discovered the coven's meeting would take place in the former location at midnight when the full moon was at its apex.

She was seated in an inconspicuous car she had rented, especially, for its usage that night, and observed the three storey abandoned building. It looked bland and unimpressive during the day but at night it had a certain haunting air about it.

Perhaps that was attributed to the silence of the night and the bare streets, but _La Casa de los Espejos_ seemed to live up to its legendary history of being a place of common supernatural hauntings.

Leaning back against the seat of the rental car (nose wrinkling minutely at the pungent smell emanating from the car's interior), she watched with sudden interest when a woman, obviously having blanketed herself in a cloaking spell (Not that it did her any good, especially not with the subtle revealing runes Zatanna had carved with her magic around the general vicinity of the structured house), approached the building and disappeared through the front door.

 _"Show time,"_ She muttered before slipping out of the car (locking it behind her) and approached the building before her.

Privately, and Zatanna would sooner pull out her own tongue than admit, she felt that bout of slight initial apprehension.

Ironic when she was a witch herself. But being there, _alone_ , in the dead of the night and walking into a haunted house with a bloody history…

Well…

She had an addicting habit of marveling at the stupidity of horror movie protagonists who simply strolled casually into haunted houses (barring the Winchester brothers, because when they did it they looked _damned good)_ as if it was an everyday amusement hotspot. The fact she was doing the same also irked her.

 _But_ , she was also a soldier. _This_ –this virtual reconnaissance mission of sorts- was something she had done countless of times, and even now, she felt a certain ease at scouting the house (whether it was haunted or not, it mattered not). She was in her element here.

This was her playground.

So, with a mental rebuke to herself (because _come on!_ Death bloody well favored her and she was an _Asturias_ (and also a grown woman who did not so much as flinch at ghastly and disgusting dead bodies and injuries) and she really had no basis to be spooked), Zatanna walked through the front door.

She could instantly feel violent magic flowing through the house, her earlier reservations forgotten, Zatanna walked curiously through the dusty and abandoned hallways.

She remembered _Seňora_ Paula telling her the meeting took place beneath the house and so curiously searched for a wine cellar that would be typically located in the basement. Ideally, the entrance to said cellar would be placed in the kitchen of the house.

The witch recalled the map of the house she had obtained earlier in the evening and made her way to the room till she reached what she identified as the kitchen, there was no apparent entryway that led to any cellar of sorts, but Zatanna remembered there being a cellar in the original map of the house and so she waved her hand, her magic recognizing her intentions of casting a simple but undetected revealing spell.

The illusion that hid the cellar doors disappeared and said doors came into view. With a private smirk playing on her lips, Zatanna waved a finger, willing a soft gust of wind to gently pull the doors back silently.

The scent premating from the underground room was distinctly of stale wine, rotting wood, and metallic in nature. The Asturias witch walked down the stairs and into the darkness of the underground cellar, the wood of the stairs groaned beneath her feet and Zatanna made sure to close the doors behind her.

She stopped for a moment on a stair step, in the middle of the staircase, and simply observed her surroundings.

She could not see anything, as the entire length of the room was covered in darkness and shadows, she could however hear a constant dropping of liquid; she would have initially assumed it was water, but the thick scent of metallic blood proved her initial hypothesis wrong.

Zatanna felt immediate magic floating through the air; it was not dark magic, she did not believe in magic _ever_ being dark (that was a backward, Wiccan school of thought), but this particular brand of magic was addicting if not balanced correctly. She felt the intentions of the user behind this magic lacing through the magical aura; it was greedily ambitious and with a subtle mixture of sadism and masochism.

The noble-born witch grinned in anticipation; she had the unexplainable urge to throw whoever the Wiccan was off their high horse of misguided superiority.

(Never let it be said she was _not_ petty. Because she was, and _shamelessly_ so at that.)

Closing her eyes, the witch channeled the magic pulsing beneath her skin and through her veins up towards her eyes, her non-verbal intentions realized, the barest of slivers of the constant thrum of live magic pulsed behind her eyelids.

She felt a slight painless burn upon her eyelids and when she opened her eyes, the Spaniard found herself possessing sudden sharpened vision; the sudden thrill of attuned senses hit her once more, and Zatanna glanced around the entirety of the room with renewed interest.

She observed the large mirrors hanging upon the walls with vague curiosity, and wondered if anyone –apart from the witches who had adopted this house as a meeting place- had ever been inside this cellar.

Half the mirrors were cracked, others dusty and some were in disturbingly excellent condition, a flash of glow had her inspecting one of the well-maintained mirrors and she felt simple amusement flowing through her when she caught sight of her glowing eyes, the pupil of her eyes had elongated so they were slit-like and presented an apparent feline outlook.

As she finally walked down the staircase, she swept her eyes across the mirrors and came to a stop at a particular one; it was a long, pristine piece of accessory that reached the floor in length. By far, the mirror was in the dirtiest condition and would not have garnered a second glance had she been someone else.

 _Hidden in simple, plain sight. Ingenious, if not overused,_ Her thoughts crooned mockingly.

She sensed the plethora of magic hidden behind and _within_ the mirror, and correctly assumed it being the door way to the coven's meeting place.

 _Every doorway had a guardian,_ Her magic seemed to whisper, cautious and amused.

Zatanna walked towards the mirror, her footfalls silent, and when she finally found herself facing the mirror, a distance of mere inches between the object and her, Zatanna did not even flinch when a horrifying, mutilated girl lunged from within the mirror, seeming to bang at the glass; looking as if she wanted to rush herself out through the other side.

The Asturias witch narrowed her eyes, and inspected the deranged and silently screaming young girl; her eyes were hollow, blood seeping from the empty eye sockets, her mouth opened in a silent scream, revealing bloodied, rotten teeth. Her skin was deathly white and her hair limp and dark.

Zatanna supposed that perhaps in one lifetime the girl had been beautiful; her now pale skin and limped locks would have once been envied for pearly white skin with dark, luscious strands forming a halo around her head.

 _"I have no interest in witnessing your pathetic attempts to intimidate me,"_ She drawled, this time in Castilian, _"You are welcome to continue if you wish, it might prove to be an amusing display for myself."_

The girl stopped suddenly and stood up straight, and tilted her head to the side menacingly, before her lips stretched into a disturbingly wide grin and she reached her hand out…

…and seemed to stare at the glass mirror in outraged confusion; the girl had pressed her hand flat against the glass that seemed to separate her from the Asturias witch and her entire body shuddered as she brought her other hand to the glass. Upon still finding herself blocked from leaving the mirror, she began banging against the glass in silent, manic movements.

Zatanna's lips twisted into a small mocking small, _"Are you confused, querida?"_ She crooned, enjoying the imprudent superiority that was steadily draining from the girl's form as she threw her entire body against the magical glass, _"I told you I had no interest in what you have to show me. Now then, seeing as I am running on a time-constraint, it would be very much appreciated if you let me pass through the entryway you guard."_

The girl did not seem to register her words as she clawed at the glass; it served as a doorway for the violent spirit to leave and enter through said glass at whim, and the entranceway was consequently blocked by Zatanna's own magic.

The noble-born witch observed the mirror, ignoring the frantic movements inside said piece of antiquity. It was an ancient spelled artifact; not quite a recognized magical relic but a close imitation.

Zatanna let her magic probe at the mirror, there was blood infused within that particular mirror; the mirror itself was spelled magically to be a sort of pseudo-prison, and the blood was laced intricately through the magical workings of said mirror.

She suspected the blood belonged to the violent spirit of the girl who resided within the magical antiquity. The witch let her eyes drift from the large, filthy, spiritual vessel and inspected the rest of the mirrors with interest. She felt a conduit of magical aura between the mirrors, connecting them together; the central piece of this connection being the filthy vessel before her.

Zatanna theorized that this connection allowed the spirit to travel through the mirrors, but she was ultimately tied to the main vessel mirror; the Asturias witch also felt the complex necromancy spell lining the vessel mirror.

Curious, she let her magic expand and muttered a Latin incantation for an affective diagnostic spell of sorts. What she learned was interesting; the spell itself was regularly strengthened by sacrificial magic and it allowed the spirit to leave the mirror (as she had anticipated) but said spirit could only become a proper corporeal form within that very cellar.

Finding the elaborate intentions behind the spell, Zatanna discovered that the spell also allowed the spirit to travel between all the mirrors in the house. Seeing as most of these vanity objects had been removed from the entirety of the house save the cellar itself, it was clear the spirit could now only travel within the mirrors of the underground room.

Zatanna, satisfied with her analysis, turned her head so as to face the spirit again, and smirked when she found the girl staring at her with fury.

 _Infuriating violent entities,_ she mused, _all in a day's work._

 _"You amuse me."_ She spoke out loud, ignoring the rude hiss that interrupted her, _"But I'm running short on time, let me pass, spirit."_

The spirit cackled soundlessly at that statement; and Zatanna quite literally meant it, because the girl threw her head back with her mouth wide open in a grotesque fashion, and her entire form shook as no sound escaped her.

Zatanna humored her for about another ten seconds, before she grinned savagely, and her magic reacted to her purpose and lashed out.

The slivers of her magic tore through the mirror and the girl stopped laughing as she went rigid, as if a puppet suddenly pulled taut; and the Asturias witch did exactly as her great grand-father (because listing exactly how many times 'great' a grand-father _Seňor Henry_ actually was to them would take too long) had taught.

Zatanna opened a minute pathway –so that only the barest of hints would be accessed- to her magic and let the violent spirit _feel_ her power.

The reaction was instantaneous, the girl's mouth fell open in a soundless wail, her form combusted in splats of black blood and the vessel-mirror shattered. The rest of the centuries-old spelled mirrors lost their connection and each were nothing more than regular, plain pieces of decorations.

Tilting her heads to the side, she wondered what the spirit had felt.

Her great grand-father had given them an exceptional piece of information regarding their magic. He had stated that their magic could generally not be felt by anyone other than Nature or other members of their family. Nature, because Mother Nature knew not to dare touch those touched by Death, to respect and fear those whom Death loved (and Death _loved_ the Asturias more than _anything_ at all, they belonged and remained singular to the entity). And members of the Asturias for obvious reasons; they were a family, and hence connected.

 _Seňor Henry_ had also told Atticus, Bonnie, and herself that it was because should anyone feel their magic, they would not remain sane. As it was, their magic could not be sensed by others and had no specific trace (unlike the earthen feel Wiccan's gave off). He had taught them how to open their magical pathways for attention if required.

Zatanna wondered if the merest feel of Death's presence lacing her magical core and aura left the spirit overwhelmed, to the point where she exploded from existence.

No matter.

Zatanna had a job to do.

(Besides, who knew how many people the spirit had hunted and terrified).

The noble-born witch stepped over the shattered glass shards and inclined two fingers sideways, making the frame of the mirror move to reveal a warded doorway.

She allowed her magic to inspect the inner-workings of the ward and was mildly impressed with the careful precision spell-work taken. Impressive for a Wiccan.

Whomever had casted the ward, made sure to leave false openings which only led to gruesome traps, for example one of the openings, if provoked incorrectly, would result in a person's hand being chopped off, followed by the blood from their wounds leeched away to strengthen the ward itself while also giving the provoker a painful death.

Of course, the caster of the wards would never have anticipated facing an Asturias, which inevitably led to their failure.

Her magic curled around her and Zatanna let it recede from its lazy inspection of the ward. The ward was brilliant, yes, but not indestructible. So, finding the weak holds of said ward, she allowed her magic to first disable all the warning systems laced within the ward, to make sure no one became aware of her presence, and then allowed her magic to tear through the magical shields as if they were made of paper.

It was satisfying to watch the presumptively strong ward give away so easily, and she would admit, it stroked at her ego (putting arrogant Wiccans into their places amused her to no end).

Walking through the damp and rocky passageway, she concentrated on the reverent, almost manic chants echoing from the end of the hallway. She kept her footfalls measured and light, her posture loose yet alert, and her entire demeanor relaxed.

She had done this a million times before. It felt, strangely, _good_ to do it again, to fall back into that routine of scouting.

She pulled herself out of her thoughts when she reached the arch at the end of the rocky hallway, Zatanna made sure to stay shrouded in the cover the shadows provided her, and surveyed the room itself with growing curiosity and detached eyes (she had seen too much violence to react outwardly).

A stoned staircase circled around the curving walls, and led into a circular chamber below the hallway arch itself. The room was lit by fire burning within oil-functioned lanterns littered across the walls. The entire chamber was fairly large with a blood-stained altar situated right in the middle of room.

There were exactly thirteen witches, dressed in sheer-red robes, forming a circle around the altar. One of these witches stood on a raised dais at the head of the altar and had her arms spread theatrically. Outside this inner circle of female witches, thirteen male warlocks, dressed in similar robes, formed an outer circle and chanted just as manically as the witches.

On the large marble altar lay a pale body of a young woman with a hole in her chest, and the wound, from what Zatanna could see despite the dim lighting of the room, was not crudely torn inwards. In fact, whomever had done it, had done so with great precision. Almost medical-like. The Asturias witch suspected it was done by magic.

She felt the saturated magic flowing through the spilled blood upon the altar, there was a gold bowl placed by the head of the dead woman; it more likely than not held her heart within its confines.

Finally, regaining her focus, Zatanna decided she really wanted to move this along and so with a wave of her hand and her magic gleefully bending to her will, she subtly attacked all the witches and warlocks with her magic, and as a result caused them to lose consciousness.

As one, they all, except the witch on the raised dais at the head of the altar, slumped and fell limply to the floor. Zatanna could feel the magical flow of the room falter and die away as most of the power being channeled was cut off.

She watched with further amusement as the lone witch looked around the room frantically, rage clouding her aura. And when Zatanna finally stepped out of the archway and into plain sight, on top of the staircase, she felt her amusement evolve into unrestrained glee as her magic purred around and within her.

For she found herself staring straight into the face of _Seňora_ Valentina Rubio _,_ head of the largest, most influential and feared magical coven of the _Province of_ _Cádiz,_ or otherwise more commonly known as the coven who practiced 'Blood magic'.

And the Wiccan looked as if she was going to do something Zatanna had labelled as _estúpido_ in her mind.

Perfect.

 _._

 _._

 _._

 _"Tell me, Seňora,"_ Zatanna began mockingly, absentmindedly also enjoying the symbolism her current position at the top of the staircase, and well _above_ the Wiccan witch portrayed, _"What did we learn from this incident?"_

 _Seňora_ Valentina stared at her through furious but striking mocha-brown eyes. She was slumped against the altar and seemed unconcerned with the blood that now stained her bare arms, as she leaned against the dead body.

She had, pitifully, attempted to attack Zatanna with her magic, only to find herself shocked beyond measure when her magic rebounded and she was hit by the same pain-inducing spell she had attempted to hit the Asturias witch with.

It was hilarious actually, Zatanna mused as she _sauntered_ down the steps (she knew how much it aggravated the Wiccan when she displayed complete ease in her surroundings and moved as if she bloody well owned them).

 _"You dare?"_ The Rubio witch began, _"You dare to interrupt, to presume to challenge_ _ **me**_ _? Do you know who I am?"_

Zatanna levelled the woman with an unimpressed stare. The witch before her could not be older than thirty, and was what the commonwealth would interpret as attractive. She was of average height but had a curvaceous form. The Wiccan possessed a heart-shaped face and large, captivating eyes, her lips were plump, and her hair; silky, voluminous dark strands, were the same color as her eyes.

Apart from her apparent good-looks, Zatanna knew, _Seňora_ Valentina was especially gifted in the magical arts her coven specialized in; Traditional Blood and Sacrificial magic, and thought herself a perfect ruler for her coven, unparalleled and unchallenged (which was kind of true, but only because she had not faced any Asturias as of yet, and hence had developed misguided arrogance).

But Zatanna also knew, the true brains behind the entire coven was _Seňora_ Valentina's grandmother; _Seňora_ Genoveva Rubio _,_ a cunning woman who was currently observing her grand-daughter and the stranger witch through one of the warded, glamoured alcoves within the stone walls of the chamber.

No matter.

Let her watch if she wished to. It would not change the fact that Zatanna would be getting what she wanted by morning come. In one way or another.

 _"Sí, sí, Seňora Valentina Rubio, head of the Cádiz blood coven, so on, so forth,"_ Zatanna waved a hand dismissively, internally relishing at the indignant outrage the Wiccan displayed.

 _"Who do_ _ **think**_ _you are?" Seňora_ Valentina hissed as she pushed herself to her feet, the fury emanating through her rhetorical question was palpable. She then stuck her hand inside the hollow chest of the dead woman and Zatanna could feel her gathering enough potent blood magic for an offensive spell.

Watching the Wiccan smirk at her made it apparent that she wished to intimidate Zatanna. Sadly for her, the Asturias witch watched her with a similar blasé expression as before.

Instead, the noble witch decided to answer the Wiccan's recently asked question, the question she was most concerned with. Willing her magic to let the slight shroud of magical aura over her eyes fall (a trick she had learned from her great-grandfather; it was useful in hiding her eye-color and confusing onlookers), Zatanna pinned the woman with a penetrating stare.

The reaction was instantaneous; _Seňora_ Valentina blanched when she caught a good look at Zatanna's eyes; her face paled, her eyes widened, almost comically, her mouth fell open in shock, and the gathering magic around her hand faltered before sputtering away pitifully.

 _"Y-you…you're an…" Seňora_ Valentina stuttered, legible words hard to come for her.

Zatanna nodded along mockingly, _"Sí, what do you know?"_ She mock-gasped, _"I'm an Asturias! What an entirely shocking experience for you."_

 _Seňora_ Valentina looked too stunned to even reply, her previous arrogance replaced with uneasy horror.

 _"It is a pity, I was hoping for a much warmer welcome,"_ The Asturias witch continued, walking closer to the speechless coven leader, her eyes –eyes that defined her position in the supernatural world- swept across the room in bored contemplation. Zatanna let her eyes linger in the spot where she knew _Seňora_ Genoveva resided within the cloaked alcove, before she glanced back at the shorter woman in front of her.

 _"Well?"_ Zatanna raised a single brow, and her expression remained playful, not a drop of unpleasant feelings or anything apart from teasing was painted on her face.

She knew _Seňora_ Valentina found it unnerving.

 _"Have you nothing to say in your defense?"_ The noble-born witch continued.

 _Seňora_ Valentina seemed to regain a semblance of her ability to process her thoughts and immediately fell to her knees, her head bowed in respect.

 _"Forgive me, Your Ladyship, Doña de Asturias, I was not aware I would host a member of the unparalleled, ancient, and most esteemed House de Asturias; the royal family of magic. May I have permission to rectify my initial greeting to you? Furthermore, I hope you will not take any slight to my own foolish actions and hold them against my coven. I am but a simple woman with…with a false sense of arrogance."_ The Wiccan witch recited almost automatically, stumbling in the end, as if admitting her faults was not something she was used to.

Zatanna _was_ pleased however; Spanish magical families were all, each and every single one of them, aware of the Asturias family, and they were rightfully respectful and fearful of said family. They were taught at an early age how to behave and act if they were (miraculously) in the presence of the noble Asturias.

It seemed even _Seňora_ Valentina was aware of the noble protocol.

In response to the coven leader's sudden humility and fearful words, Zatanna let herself stay silent as if she was truly thinking about it, and she let her eyes sweep over the older woman's form contemplatively (ignoring the slight quivering form of said Wiccan witch), and let her face harden.

 _"Look at me,"_ Her voice was now hard and unforgiving, and _Seňora_ Valentina flinched in response before snapping her head up to look at her, fear lacing her aura.

Zatanna _stared_ into _Seňora_ Valentina's eyes.

Her blank face and coldly amused eyes easily served to make the coven leader approach a simple realization; The Asturias lived up to their reputation effortlessly. And that _Seňora_ Valentina had no control over the current situation, all command lied with the female noble Asturias before her.

 _"I will_ _ **let**_ _it pass in this instance,"_ Zatanna chose her words with a degree of calculated precision she was well-versed in, she made sure the arrogant coven leader before her knew she was at the Asturias witch's mercy, _"I trust you will care not to let such an occurrence happen another time."_

 _Seňora_ Valentina shook her head almost manically, and Zatanna let a pleased and dark smirk twist at her lips.

 _"Good, then you have my consent to re-introduce yourself, choose your words wisely."_

Recognizing that while Zatanna had permitted her to correct her mishap of an introduction, she was still not allowed to get on her feet. And so, _Seňora_ Valentina remained on her knees and after swallowing hard she opened her mouth,

 _"I ask to present myself before Her Ladyship, Doña de Asturias,"_ The Wiccan spoke much more assured.

 _"So granted."_ Came the soft careless response.

Tentatively, with her eyes focused upon Zatanna, _Seňora Valentina_ lifted herself to her feet. After which she straightened her back and met the Asturias' eyes, her hands folded demurely in front of her and her back erect.

 _"I stand here, Valentina Claudia Rubio-Delgado, daughter of Eduardo Miguel Rubio and Margarita Carmen Delgado, in the presence of Her Ladyship, Doña de Asturias. I stand eternally at the service of House de Asturias as the leader of the Cádiz blood coven and a simple Wiccan who might be of little use."_

And she then lowered her head in complete submission, her feet crossing and knees bending so that she was in a curtsy.

Zatanna tilted her head to the side, vaguely approving of the minimum flattering in the introduction; after all she had no use for such false or misguided sentiments, _and_ Zatanna was prideful _not_ arrogant or egotistical. There was a large difference among them in her mind.

 _"I acknowledge your presence by Death's decree,"_ She drawled lazily, disinterest lacing her tone, and her attention shifted from the woman before her and towards the magical cloak that lowered to reveal the hidden alcove within. _"But only because I have little concern with wasting any more time with you. I do not find you to be impressive, rest assured, do well not to trifle with my patience. I may not be so forgiving a second time."_

 _"My granddaughter will make sure her foolishness does not aggravate you any longer, Your Ladyship, I assure you,"_ A silky, and old voice, with most of its harshness aimed towards the Wiccan in front of Zatanna, interjected.

An old woman, with wrinkled skin, sly eyes and a proud posture stepped out of the alcove. She was not very tall, but in her youth she had most likely been a woman of great beauty; although her hair were strands of grey and white, her eyes –the same color as her granddaughter's- held a certain allure to them; they glinted with intelligence, cleverness, and sultry promises.

The Matriarch of the Rubio coven made an easy and favorable impression.

 _"May I present myself before Your Ladyship?"_ She questioned briskly, yet respectfully, her eyes looking to Zatanna both admiringly and reverently.

 _"No need, I am well aware of your identity,"_ Zatanna grinned sharply, _"You have made a favorable impression, Seňora Genoveva, Be calm."_

The older woman visibly lit up before curtsying in respect, _"In all my life, I did not think I would stand in a presence of a member of the House de Asturias, much less the current generation Lady. I am honored, Doña."_

 _"I implore you to rise. Your sentiments are humbling."_ She nodded back in acknowledgement, blatantly ignoring her gaping granddaughter.

 _"Tell me, Your Ladyship, what is it you need?"_ The old woman asked, lifting her head.

Zatanna's lips curved up into a wicked smirk.

* * *

Valentina Rubio was torn between letting the sheer terror she felt encompass her being, and letting that inferiority complex of hers rise.

She watched the noble-born witch walk across the dark, wet sand of the _La Caleta_ beach. The surroundings were illuminated by the glow of tall street lights, yet there was not a soul present.

Valentina supposed that had anyone else walked upon this scene; they would have seen the odd sight of three females walking upon the darker and more isolated part of the beach.

One old, one grown, the third young.

The thirty-two year old woman watched the youngest female of the trio carefully.

She had grown up upon the stories, the calculated might of the Asturias. For as far as she could remember, Valentina knew her _abuela_ to be a strictly proud woman; bordering almost on arrogance. And why shouldn't she? Yes, they might have dabbled in the darker part of Nature's magic, but as opposed to most Wiccan covens, they could _control_ that magic; that made them feared.

But as prideful as her _abuela_ was, Valentina could never quite forget or digest the memory of her _abuela's_ expression whenever she told her of the unrivaled royals of magic. That respectful, almost obsessive expression, with fear intermingled had initially left a bitter taste in Valentina's mouth.

How could there be someone who was stronger than the _Rubio coven?_ How could there be anyone who was infinitely more superior to _any_ Wiccan?

But then her _abuela_ had punished her, when she had dared to voice her thoughts and say so.

 _"Estúpida," Abuela Genoveva_ had snapped, _"Of course they would be superior, and how can they not when they have claimed Death, and Death has claimed them in turn? Even Nature fears them!"_

And now, watching the tall and beautiful young witch, Valentina would grudgingly agree with the stories she had been told throughout her entire childhood.

Everything the Asturias stood for had not been exaggerated; it seemed to the Wiccan, as she watched the prowling stance of the noble witch before her and the carefully coiled power exuding through every movement, that the Asturias were _more_ than the stories told.

Her aura was something that could not be felt precisely, but there was a sort of heaviness to her presence. Something that announced her as an immediate dominating personality.

What a fearsome thought. And to know that a member of this most noble house had chosen to show herself to the Rubio coven; to Valentina and her _abuela._ Well… Valentina was both apprehensive and in awe.

She thought back to what _Doña Asturias_ had demanded of them,

 _"I'm interested in blood sacrifices, and not the simple common ones you perform," Doña Asturias_ had admitted with a playful shrug, her eyes –and by the spirits and heavens above, those were a pair of eyes that would haunt her for the rest of her days; they were unnatural and enthralling and entirely _too_ knowing– were sharp in contrast, _"Specifically blood sacrifices in magical rituals. I have done my research; I know a large ritual took place within the city some centuries ago. The magical trace is still saturated within the very air. I want you to take me to the ritual site."_

 _"May I ask the reason for your interest, Doña mía?"_ Her _abuela_ had questioned boldly.

Mild approval flashed through the noble witch's eyes, _"You may say that I am researching,"_ She had drawled in response, _"I will perform such a ritual in the near future; and as it is a Wiccan originated one, I wish to know all I can rather than walking in blindly."_

 _"You are one the Asturias, is your power not enough?"_ Valentina had blurted, feeling both fright and mortification when soulful eyes pinned her in place.

 _"This is not a matter of power, Seňora," Doña Asturias_ looked nothing more than unfazed and expressionless, but somehow, Valentina knew her answer was met with disapproval and certain form of scorn only exhibited by aristocratic families. _"It is a matter of_ _ **knowledge.**_ _"_

Pulling herself out of her recent memories, Valentina eyed the Asturias witch, as she pulled a black pouch from her pocket and after upturning its contents upon her hand (a heap of gold dust), Valentina watched with further interest as she blew the dust from her hand.

Immediately the surroundings melted away.

And Valentina could only do what she had been doing all night long.

She helplessly _watched._

* * *

Zatanna observed the new scene in front of her with morbid interest.

What had previously been on a clean beach, littered with modern technological streetlights and sightseeing and other tourist attractions, had now reverted to a form it must have held centuries ago.

The beach, instead of inviting, seemed only eerie now.

The tide was high, and the moon was full in the dark night sky. The beach itself was well-lit by a large bonfire and surrounding the bonfires were large, long wooden stakes.

Tied at the stakes –a total of seven- were seven individuals; three women and four men. Each had their mouths opened in horrible silent screams; they had their wrists slit and pushed cavities in their chests. Blood leaked out of their wounds and into the depressions made in the sand below.

The depressions were not very deep but deep enough, and they were long paths that led to the bonfire itself.

Witches and warlocks; no doubt members of the blood coven itself, chanted around the fire, they looked sadistically pleased as along with their chants, they carved a blend of ancient runes and shaman influenced carvings within the sand; after which they poured thick blood into them.

Zatanna was impressed at the details of the memory apparition. Her great-grandfather had given her that gold dust. He had said that it revealed past occurrences or memory's; all it needed was a strong enough magical residue or something that had a strong connection to the memory in question, it was usually a person with the memory, an object or a place where the event occurred.

As Zatanna had been the one to infuse her magic within the dust and blow it, she held primary control over the situational magical manipulations.

It was when Zatanna paused the moving scene (as if it was a common virtual movie) that _Seňora_ Genoveva spoke up,

 _"This ritual, Doña Asturias; it was the largest magical ritual our coven has ever performed. My ancestors, the twins; María and Héctor Rubio, executed the ceremony themselves."_ The older Rubio witch sounded proud of her history.

Zatanna let her eyes roam towards where the two main perpetrators of the ritual stood side by side, their dark eyes; almost as dark as the midnight canvas that was the night sky, glinted with maniacal pleasure as they watched the dead sacrifices.

 _"I see them."_ Zatanna acknowledged, before she walked to the carvings before the tall wooden posts. She recognized the symbols representing a split of consciousness. Seeing as the ritual was primarily shaman based; Zatanna reckoned it had something to do with altered states of consciousness or perhaps even the spirit worlds; in this case, maybe the other side? _"Tell me, what was this ritual for?"_

 _"The details have been lost over time Doña mía," Seňora_ Genoveva frowned, her salt and pepper locks gleaming in the suspended light of the bonfire, _"But we have been told it was to separate a conscious of an immortal individual. In a manner of speaking; it was to develop a strong pocket dimension only that individual had access to. I'm not quite certain of the other details."_

Zatanna nodded along thoughtfully, she wagered that the sacrifices were a form of blood magic; as frowned upon as it was, blood magic, apart from expression, was the most powerful form of Wiccan magic;. Ironically, both Expression and Blood Magic were heavily scorned in the Wicca world (Surprise, surprise).

Blood magic was not easily broken, in fact, whomever the immortal was; he or she would also have been a part of the ceremony. The sacrifices were to build up the premises of the spell and the immortal's own blood would have to be used to bind it to his or her self.

 _"Who was the immortal?"_ Zatanna questioned curiously as she stepped closer to inspect the dead sacrifice.

 _"An Original vampire," Seňora_ Valentina _,_ who had remained silent up till now, finally spoke, _"The one known as Kol Mikaelson."_

The Asturias witch glanced at the two women curiously before she let her eyes wander away from the main ritual sight; and just there, a little ways past the Rubio twins, stood a tall shadowed figure.

Zatanna took one good look at him and-

-her breath _hitched_.

Now, Zatanna would admit that she fancied quite a lot of people; actors, celebrities etc. But it was just that, simple admiring fanciful feelings.

So, as such, there had been only one man before, who had ever _truly_ affected her to this caliber; and that had been her husband in her previous life.

(Unbidden, she recalled eyes as blue as the deep ocean; dark, raging, constantly shifting in their shades and light ash brown curls. A charming grin, a tall broad-shouldered form, and an attractive Scottish accent. Her heart _ached_ at the memory).

He had been the only man whose appearance had left her reeling with both fierce attraction and some form of unexplainable overtaking emotion. That is, he had been the only one until now.

Kol Mikaelson was _striking_.

He was a tall young man; much taller than her, but perhaps an inch shorter than her own brother. His entire form was lean, but the quiet yet blatant strength he possessed was made obvious by the muscles that rippled along his limbs; a sight that was only accentuated by the well-tailored clothes he wore (centuries old though they were).

His hair gleamed as the bright glow of the bonfire washed over them; providing a certain amber shade to them, but it did nothing to hide the true blend of the dark golden brown and coffee brown strands. Each strand tumbled over the other luxuriously, and although the locks hung just below his well-defined, strong jawline, they were arranged in an impeccable manner still.

His facial features were all patrician and refined; chiseled cheekbones, a straight, sharp nose, and inviting lips curved into a disinterested smirk. He had a slight cleft at his chin that only added to his appeal, and his eyes were at once captivating in their color; a pair of sinful molten chocolates that gleamed almost like rich honey in the light of the fire.

And while, he was no doubt handsome beyond measure that was not what had immediately drew Zatanna in.

It was the way he carried himself.

Long legs spaced apart evenly –with all the skill of a seasoned warrior- and arms crossed casually, emphasizing the strength in his upper arms and flexed the muscled of his forearms. His spine was erect but twisted slightly in a self-assured manner. Everything about him was arranged in controlled, coiled strength, and yet he exuded relaxed disinterest.

A man who was held complete precision over himself…

He effortlessly represented himself as one of the greatest nocturnal predators that he truly was. His eyes gleamed with acute intelligence and cold amusement; but presented themselves with a wildness, a certain form of organized madness, that was downright predatory.

For the love of all that was holy, Zatanna could _not_ stop staring.

And more curious was that her magic rose just below the surface of her skin in consideration but remained fluttering there, not reacting further but also curious.

Absentmindedly, she allowed the scene to play itself once more, and found her eyes inspecting every movement the Original made.

What was he doing exactly? Why would he need to build himself a pocket-dimension?

Intrigued, she let her eyes carefully inspect all the variables involved in this particular ritual. The Rubio witches were all but forgotten as they remained standing behind her silently.

What had begun as an educational trip where Zatanna was researching all she could about large-scale sacrificial or blood rituals, for the sole purpose of equipping herself and Atticus with enough knowledge to perform the ritual to break Klaus' curse, had now dissolved into insatiable curiosity over the ritual Klaus' own brother was having preformed for himself.

She attributed this to one simple fact, as her eyes strayed back towards the Original.

Kol Mikaelson had managed to capture her interest.

* * *

 ** _22_** ** _nd_** ** _August, 2009; Emerald Coast; Florida, United States of America._**

Enzo scowled at his phone.

The text ringtone –a horrific sound truly, one of a baby wailing incessantly- cut through the silence of the night, signifying an arrival of a text (no doubt, another one to add to the constant spam of messages both Zatanna and Atticus were sending him, just for the heck of it).

Annoying as it was, Enzo, for the life of him, couldn't quite grasp how to get rid of the despicable tone. It had been a little over two months since he had declared the prank war on his two little siblings.

And while, it had initially been hilarious (oh it was hysterically amazing, to be honest) it was also getting quite annoying. Their wars, were proper actual wars and each of them would employ carefully thought out tactics and strategies to catch the other two off guard.

But there would come moments where they were downright _petty._ He was not even joking, and it seemed this was one such moment. He was quite sure Atticus and Zatanna must be privately laughing when they felt the annoyance on the vampire's end of the bond.

And although, they would typically declare a truce, Enzo knew Atticus and Zatanna had left that option for him to decide in this particular war. It was their form of giving him control in this instance, to take his mind away from more…stressing topics.

Namely, Damon Salvatore.

By God, that lousy traitorous arsehole was in Mystic Falls.

He was _so_ close.

And Enzo could do nothing about it.

He had spied on the dark-haired vampire, he had watched as the man, in his arrogance, displayed complete comfort within his skin. As if there was nothing that could trouble him, nothing that could worry him.

Enzo wanted to rip his chest open, cut of his limbs and leave him in absolute agony.

Of course, knowing his anger was steadily going out of control, he had decided to leave Mystic Falls for a few months. Better to involve himself in the pseudo spy-network of his (and his self-proclaimed siblings) than stew over how Damon Salvatore had left him to a fate worse than death (and how much Enzo would enjoy getting his, admittedly, colorful and creative ideas for revenge).

Before leaving, Caroline had made him promise to call every day, Bonnie had given him a protective charm, Tyler, Matt, and Jeremy had delicately reaffirmed the idea that no one in their group cared he was a vampire, and that a man's intentions, thought-patterns and choices defined who he was. Vicki had in that same instance stated bluntly that Damon was a 'piece-of-shit' and she would personally make his life a living hell, and Elena texted him those ridiculous jokes of hers every day.

He _adored_ these children, and would very well raze the earth if it meant they would get the best in their lives.

His adopted siblings on the other hand, were both annoying twats. But he wouldn't trade them for anything. After all, hadn't it been for them, he would still be trapped in the clutches of the Augustine society.

 _Cold lead pinned his arms and legs, surgical lights glowing above him, and a clinical scent, only tinged with the sharp smell of heavily potent vervain premating through the air, scalpels carving through his skin and-_

Enzo closed his eyes, banishing those thoughts.

The Asturias had made this sudden freedom he had, this liberty to plot against the society and Damon, possible. They had brought new joy into his life; the children he so adored, the genuine happiness, comfort. Even their own ever supporting support and understanding.

Lorenzo St. John had a family.

One he would do _anything_ for. Just as he knew they would do anything for _him._

And so, feeling sudden calm wash over him, he opened his eyes, leaned back against the brick wall he stood by, and watched the small and comfortable bar situated across the road (as he had been for the past two hours).

He found the information his contact –a homeless un-triggered werewolf, who relied on pickpocketing and funds from Enzo to live by- to be correct when he saw a certain doppelgänger vampire snatch a man who was on his way inside the bar and watched as she pulled said man into the dark abandoned alleyway by said bar.

With a private smirk, Enzo casually walked inside the bar and after casting a cursory glance across the dingy space, his eyes rested upon the tall male relaxing upon a barstool, while nursing a drink in his hand.

Enzo kept half his attention on listening to the happenings in the alleyway (well, there was no doubt about it…Katerina Petrova was very skilled in seduction) and the other half at Mason Lockwood; the unfortunate wolf caught unaware by a five-century old vampire whose main prerogative was simply to _survive_.

Enzo plastered a pleasant smile upon his face (it was a smug smirk, really) and sauntered his way to the un-triggered (for now) werewolf.

"Hello, mate, mind if I join you?" He greeted, all while smiling at the young, female bartender in a charming manner.

Her flushing cheeks served as a boost to his own ego.

Mason Lockwood stared up at him warily through soft-blue eyes and his entire form tensed up.

"Sure." He replied tensely.

Enzo would have taken the seat by him, but the events in the alleyway were speeding up, so internally shrugging at the quick turn of proceedings, Enzo proceeded to wink at the bartender who smiled back invitingly before she ducked away into a side-room he supposed was for employees only. And then the vampire wrapped a hand around the Lockwood's forearm and hauled him up with little to no effort.

Tyler's uncle was startled for all but three seconds before he began struggling in his grip. It was all for naught of course, as Enzo's strength far exceeded the un-triggered werewolf's.

As he dragged the cursing and stumbling man behind him, Enzo smiled at everyone who stared at them until they looked away unnerved or unaffected. It _was_ a bar after all.

"What the fuck?" The Lockwood growled, his teeth bared in a manner resembling that of the animal he was genetically coded to turn into.

Not wanting Katerina to hear any of this unnecessary drama (not that it mattered, Enzo had been provided with a sage necklace by Bonnie; her own brand of silencer, as long as he wore it, he and any other person he had physical contact with could not be heard), he pulled the man down into a headlock and slapped his hand over the struggling man's mouth.

(This reminded him of wrestling with Tyler).

He pulled Mason Lockwood into the alleyway and both stayed shrouded in the shadows so as to observe the two other individuals.

"-You know, Jimmy?" Hearing Katerina's voice seemed to stop the Lockwood from struggling, his confusion apparent even to Enzo. "I really need you to do me a favor."

Enzo found himself staring at the doppelgänger long and hard. He had heard many things about her; as such, his opinion was rather mixed. He admired her for her tenacity to seek her freedom, but pitied her for being constantly on the run. He then abhorred her manipulations (and somewhere deep inside he was torn between feeling vindictive pleasure at knowing she had played Damon or pity for the Salvatore himself) and how she was working to offer Elena to Klaus on a silver platter.

He stared at the half-hooded eyes and the arrogant curl of her lips, and honestly, even though she shared the same face as Elena, he truly did not see any resemblance between them.

"Uh," The man identified as Jimmy looked nervous but also anticipating as Katerina plastered herself to his front, "Listen, Kathy, y-you're Mason's girl and…I can't do…," He looked indecisive before saying, "I mean…as long as he doesn't know…"

Katerina pouted in an exaggerated manner, "Oh, I just knew you'd be fun," She simpered before grinning sharply and wrapping her hand around his neck, and she then pinned him against the brick wall, "But no…," She seemed to thrive at the fear taking its place in Jimmy's eyes as he thrashed and choked.

The doppelgänger vampire pulled the man closer to her and looked straight into his eyes, her own pupils dilating, "I want you go in that bar, and I want you to pick a fight with Mason. Keep starting a fight with him, and don't you dare stop until he doesn't kill you. Do you understand?"

The man looked dazed and nodded, his eyes glazed over.

Katerina dropped him with a pleased smirk and flashed away, leaving the man to stumble to his feet before he staggered to the entrance of the bar.

Enzo dropped the silent and slacked form of Mason Lockwood.

The un-triggered werewolf looked lost and betrayed, his eyes flashing deeply with heartbreak and his shoulders sagged in defeat.

Enzo pitied him.

"I figured you wouldn't believe me if I told you," Enzo began pleasantly, fixing the sleeves of his leather jacket, "So I trust showing you was a better option."

There was no reply, not that he expected any.

"Of course, whatever Katherine has planned is not going to happen tonight. Instead you're going to sit back and I, of course, shall kill your treacherous friend –I always did hate disloyal friends- and we're going to let Katerina, pardon me, _Kathy_ think that you have killed him and activated your curse…for now, at least-"

"Why?" Mason interrupted and he looked up Enzo with despair, his voice throaty in nature.

Enzo smirked.

* * *

 ** _1_** ** _st_** ** _September, 2009; Asturias household, Mystic Falls; Virginia, United States of America._**

Bonnie stifled a snort as she watched her cousin look near-reverent while giving her great-grandfather a report of the previous three months proceedings.

(Not to mention said grandfather was entirely too distracting with his _killer_ good-looks. Damn it, Bonnie was trying to get over her crush. Not encourage it.)

Anyways, the three of them were lounging on the (surprisingly) comfortable wicker chairs in the front yard, Mister Henry, himself, listened to his descendant with a half-knowing smile on his face (it was a pretty face, she noted, an almost dreamy look entering her eyes).

"-as it was, Enzo's brought in _Seňor Mason_ within our ranks; tentative as it is." Zatanna was saying, an accomplished gleam in her eyes.

Mister Henry tilted his head to the side, "Oh? And do tell, what convinced the werewolf?"

"Betrayal," Zatanna shrugged, "Revenge, even heart break –as deplorable as that sounds. Enzo simply manipulated _Seňor Mason_ at his weakest."

"I'm still wondering about that," Bonnie added her input into the conversation, her brows furrowing in thought, "Why do it?"

Mister Henry glanced at his great-granddaughter through the corner of her eyes, and Zatanna seemed to be carefully sorting her thoughts before she opened her mouth.

" _Seňor Mason_ is a werewolf, _Bonita,"_ Zatanna said carefully, "And an un-triggered one. He doesn't have the luxury Tyler does. He's over emotional and Katerina has very easily manipulated those emotions, so that he has become little more than a love-sick obedient little puppy for her. A sacrificial piece."

Bonnie nodded along. She understood all that, the fact he was a Lockwood was also convenient; since Katherine would not only use him as the werewolf bait for Klaus but also as a link to get the moonstone.

Perhaps, Mister Henry could see the shrewd understanding in her eyes, because his eyes gleamed with regal pride when he looked at her.

(GAH! Why was he so _damn_ attractive? Bad Bonnie).

"It was essential to have _Seňor Mason_ within our folds. Not only can he now draw Katerina to Mystic Falls whenever _we_ want, but it would also keep him safe," Her cousin explained seriously, "Personally, I don't hold any connection to him, _but_ he is Tyler's uncle. And had he followed Katerina's whims, he would have died. I wish to avoid that, and only for the sole reason because I promised you all that I would do my utmost to protect you…and that does include your families."

The entire statement was delivered with clinical interest, and somehow it still managed to warm Bonnie to the core. Her cousins had never lied to her, or any of their friends. Not once.

If anyone had their trust and _more_ , it was her Spanish family members.

"Besides," Bonnie ended for her cousin, with a teasing smile on her face, "Mason's our inside man. He'll spy on Katerina for us."

Zatanna and Mister Henry gave her similar sharp grins of approval.

"Well done, _Seňorita Bonita,"_ Mister Henry spoke in his articulate speech, "Thou art improving."

Bonnie pinked in pleasure.

"Now, child, tell me what results thy visit to the Rubio coven yielded?" Mister Henry tilted his head to the side, much reminiscent to the way Zatanna, Atticus, and even Uncle Ignacio did.

Zatanna paused thoughtfully, and Bonnie stared in utter astonishment at the almost manic and intrigued gleam that took its place in her eyes. It appeared Mister Henry seemed to sharpen in on the slight change of expression too, as his own eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

"It was…interesting to say the least." Zatanna spoke, and she seemed to think for a moment, before diving straight into what was bothering her, " _Bisabuelo_ , the ritual itself while informative…it was its origin that interested me the most."

"Oh?"

" _Sí,_ the ritual was shaman-based, it was to develop a kind of pocket dimension, and from what I could gather; it was only for a single sub-consciousness to access." She explained, and Bonnie listened attentively, filing away the information for later contemplation.

"Continue, child." Mister Henry prompted.

"The ritual was conducted at the behest of an Original." Zatanna revealed, "Kol Mikaelson to be precise and-" Zatanna cut herself off, something inquisitive flashing over her face as she frowned. It was as if Zatanna was confused about something and it was entirely maddening because she couldn't understand what.

As if she was infinitely curious about something, and that curiosity had done something quite shocking. It had captured _all_ of her interest.

Mister Henry suddenly looked knowing, as a playful smirk played on his lips, "Is that so? Thou art curious about this Original, aye?"

Zatanna looked partially disgruntled as she nodded. "I admit to such… _why_ would an Original need a pocket dimension?"

Mister Henry's lips stretched wider into an uncharacteristic (but nevertheless handsome) grin, "I suppose. After all, why and when would an Original access it?" It was a rhetorical question, but there was a certain specificity with which it was spoken that made both Bonnie and Zatanna stare at him with suspicion.

He ignored them.

(Of course he did).

Knowing both of them would get nothing more out of him, Bonnie turned to her cousin and questioned, "What will you do about it?"

Honey brown strands slipped over one shoulder and Zatanna tilted her head thoughtfully, "To be honest, I really want access it…"

By it, Bonnie assumed she meant the pocket dimension. The Bennett witch frowned as the mention of it reminded her of a magical article she read in Uncle Ignacio's study. Something about-

"-Hey," Bonnie shifted upon the garden wicker chair, her brows furrowed in concentration, "This is kinda like that case about…what's it called," Bonnie snapped her fingers trying desperately to remember the name that was on the tip of her tongue, " Right! The Gemini Coven! They had a-a _prison world_ made for that guy who killed his siblings, right? Something Peters?"

Mister Henry smirked and Zatanna froze.

"Malachai Parker," Her Asturias cousin corrected absent-mindedly as she suddenly sat up, her eyes widening with realization, "How could I forget?" She muttered to herself before snapping her head towards Bonnie, "Homework time, _Bonita_ ," Zatanna's eyes gleamed as she looked immensely pleased, "We need to research everything we can about the Gemini coven, gather any knowledge you can about the prison world, _Bonita…_ in fact, if I'm correct then _Tia abuela_ was the one who made that purgatory," Zatanna spoke out loud, "I'll be conducting the research regarding the dimension Kol Mikaelson had commissioned."

"Why?" Bonnie hesitated in questioning.

Zatanna smirked and replied honestly, "Because I _need_ to know. I'm curious."

Mister Henry clapped his hands together and he looked entirely too amused with the entire situation. The light of the bright sun flashed across the platinum wedding band he wore. And Bonnie found herself overcome with a sudden curiosity that had plagued her for quite some time now.

"Hey, Mister Henry?" She glanced away from his wedding band, "Who's your wife?"

Mister Henry blinked at the sudden change of topic but took it in a stride, his lips quirked up and his eyes flashed with sudden, intense affection.

Bonnie had to physically cover her face to hide her blush (dimly, she was aware of the bemused expression Zatanna aimed at her).

" _Constanza_ ," Mister Henry spoke the name with such transparent fondness, that Bonnie found herself shaken at the depth of quiet yet strong emotion behind it, "She is…the most _annoying_ woman I have ever had the misfortune to encounter." He then scowled slightly, exasperation and amusement filling his tone, as his lips twitched upwards into an irritated smirk.

.

.

.

What?

Bonnie gaped at the King, unable to form any coherent sentence.

Zatanna _cackled,_ "Now, I simply cannot wait to meet _bisabuela._ " Her Spanish cousin looked downright gleeful.

Mister Henry stared at his great-granddaughter unimpressed, "Unfortunately, I know she will be as eager as to meet thee."

"Wait, wait, she's alive too?" Bonnie asked curiously.

"Sadly," The King drawled, and Bonnie was beginning to see what Zatanna found so amusing. The fact that the usually unruffled monarch looked as fondly annoyed as any man who had been married as long as he had (which was a long time –centuries-, to be honest) was awesome.

She was about to jokingly comment about how rude he was being, but the King spoke before she could, a sharp grin twisting upon his lips, "I suppose such is our bond, though," He tilted his head, watching Zatanna in a manner Bonnie could not recognize.

She was however, concentrating on a particular word he said; 'Bond'.

Now Bonnie knew all about bond magic, Uncle Ignacio had given quite a detailed lesson upon that, but he had vaguely touched upon 'soul bonds' and Bonnie found herself really curious about it.

"Hey, Mister Henry, could you…could you tell me more about 'soul bonds'?" She asked slightly hesitant.

He blinked at her once before he looked pleased at her question (lord knows why), "Of course, _Bonita,"_ God damn it, the way his accent shifted from smooth, cultured British to seductive, refined Spanish when he spoke her name made butterflies flutter in her stomach, "Thy question holds much merit. I find myself much glad thee asked."

"Where to begin?" He mused, "The magic of an Asturias is different from common Wiccan as thee know. Our very core is magical and that core resides intertwined within our souls."

Bonnie nodded fervently, "Yeah, and because Death favors you, your magic has Death's presence and trace within it. _And_ your magic is alive, too. Unlike mine…" The Bennett witch muttered the last part petulantly.

Mister Henry's eyes filled with amusement, "Forsooth, because our magic is alive, Bond magic is something we art particularly sensitive too. Did thee know that our magic analyses every single thing; object, person, environment, creature, _anything_ we ever interact with? It is a constant source of intuition and analysis for us."

"You _trust_ your magic." Bonnie realized, "Because it's alive and a part of you and with Death's trace within it."

" _Sí,"_ Zatanna interjected. "Basically, the magic peers into other individual souls, and then evaluates others intentions and personality and character for us. If our magic recognizes any person will be important to us, it forms a bond between specific tendrils of our souls. Those connected strands may represent any sort of bond, as you well know, and any one type may be countless in number but there is only one 'soul bond'."

Mister Henry nodded at the explanation before continuing, "The bond recognizes an individual who completely compliments their specific Asturias, an individual whom even Death's presence in our magic approves of and chooses for us." The King looked more intense than usual, his eyes blazing like an inferno, "T'is not a forceful bond, not at all, and the Asturias always retains their ability to choose. The 'soul bond' is a much deeper concept than the trivial romanticized notions that are quite popular in current times."

It sounded too good to be true, Bonnie thought privately, and so she asked, "That can't be it…right?"

Mister Henry gave a small, sly smirk, slanting another look towards his great-granddaughter, "There is one drawback," Even Zatanna looked surprised at that, "For the 'soul bond' to be formed, the magic of the Asturias must come into contact with the physical body of the other individual, else the bond will not form."

"What a drawback," Bonnie couldn't help but drawl sarcastically.

Zatanna and Mister Henry gave simultaneous and similar huffs of laughter.

"Now then," The former King of England clapped his hands together, a sudden devious gleam taking over his eyes, "Tell me, dear children, you _have_ been practicing the formation of spells I told you to prepare, aye?"

Bonnie winced guiltily.

Yeah, she was pretty sure she would be left magically exhausted in punishment for her procrastination.

Joy.

* * *

 ** _6_** ** _th_** ** _September, 2009; Gilbert Household, Mystic Falls; Virginia, United States of America._**

Darren Malloy and Brooke Fenton were found dead by the road side, with matching gaping wounds upon their throats.

Elena swallowed thickly as she watched the newsreel, she was dimly aware of her mother's soothing presence by her side and her brother's hand on her shoulder.

This was it.

There were only two vampires apart from Enzo in Mystic Falls right now. And knowing the younger one's diet pattern, Elena assumed it was the older Salvatore who had so cruelly announced his presence in town.

Oh god, it had begun.

* * *

 ** _7_** ** _th_** ** _September, 2009; Mystic Falls High school, Mystic Falls; Virginia, United States of America._**

Tyler was pretty sure his face looked downright terrifying at the moment. This assumption was further cemented by the fact that most of the school population who took one good look at his face immediately made themselves scarce.

Except Caroline and Matt, of course, in fact they walked by his side.

Those two had rather impressive resting bitch faces; they might have even rivaled his own.

(It would have been hilarious if he wasn't so wrung up, and his supernatural senses and instincts weren't on high alert).

He stalked down the hall, intent on reaching Elena's locker, or perhaps running into the doppelgänger herself; _just to find Elena. NOW!_

The un-triggered werewolf came to an abrupt stop when he saw Elena and Jeremy right outside the male restrooms-

-And what made the hair at the neck of his head rise in ire; a certain animalistic urge _to crush someone's head_ rush to the surface, was the uncomfortable expression painted across Elena's face, the palpable protective anger on Jeremy's expression, and finally the tall, _definitely new and unrecognizable_ male who stood in front of Elena watching her with all too probing eyes; self-righteous eyes.

Tyler growled, his pack disposition blaring red lights within him, his fury only rose when he saw all three look at him in surprise and the new guy dared to move slowly in front of Elena as if to protect her from him.

To protect Elena from _Tyler_.

He was barely aware of the derogatory scoff Caroline gave at witnessing the action, and the offended scowl Jeremy threw at the new guy's back.

All Tyler could focus on was Elena's relieved look and the bright grin that immediately twisted at her lips when she saw them (read: him). She shoved past the new guy, not at all caring about the overly-worried look passing over his face and launched herself at Tyler.

Tyler for a mild moment let the smugness take over him, stroking his male ego which resulted in a smirk twisting at his lips, before he wrapped his arms around Elena and holding her close in an attempt to comfort her and to share his warmth, to let her know that _it was okay and he was here now_.

She let out a shuddering breath against his ear, and somehow that spoke more in volume than anything she could have verbally spoken.

That new asshole had made her feel this uncomfortable, and Tyler felt that consuming anger, one he hadn't felt for so long, threatening to take over him. The only reason it didn't was because _his friends_ surrounded him, and _Elena_ was in his arms.

He would never allow himself to lose control. He would never allow himself to become his father. Mister A had taught him that much, at least.

And so, seething, Tyler turned away from the new guy (the Lockwood knew his name but in that moment of petty anger did not even want to acknowledge it).

Elena pulled her head away from where she had buried it in his shoulder, and was looking up at him with trusting doe-brown eyes; eyes filled with fond affection, and the usual mirth.

She was beautiful, he dimly registered the fact to himself once more. Sure, he knew she shared a face with three other known females, but Tyler just _knew_ , that none of those females could replicate or even possess what made Elena so uniquely… _Elena._

They would never have the all-present mirth and hope that shone through her eyes, they would never know what it was to love ridiculous jokes, and they would never know the specific brand of strength Elena displayed when she trusted, when she handed over the fate of her life to another.

Because, let's face it, that took great trust and great strength. To hand over control over your _own_ life, that was something not easily achieved. And acknowledging your own shortcomings was even harder still. Elena had done all that, and scared as she was, she _trusted_ Zee and Ace and Mister A and Enzo.

And Tyler was so, _so_ fond of this girl in his arms.

"Sorry," Caroline blatantly lied through her teeth, giving the _new guy_ a fake smile, "We were looking for Elena and Jeremy all over! I mean they've been in a depressive mood lately; remembering their dad –he's dead, by the way- and they weren't picking up their phones either so we were really worried." Caroline finished her fake rambling, falling into the ditzy blonde role she had perfected over the years.

(Her reasoning was simple; "People underestimate you if they think you're stupid," Caroline had announced once after a therapy session with Mister A, "They don't think you're worth their time so they let their guard down. I happen to have unknowingly already perfected that art." Her grin at the end was suddenly devious, the new revelations casting a new light into her eyes).

"Hey, it's fine," The _new guy_ waved a hand dismissively, although his eyes flashed with disdain at Caroline's tirade (how _fucking_ dare he? Tyler personally felt offended for Caroline), and he attempted to slant _supposed_ understanding eyes towards Elena (Tyler wanted to rip those eyes out), "I bumped into her accidentally, I'm Stefan Salvatore, by the way."

Matt jumped in the conversation then, he aligned himself subtly in front of Caroline (good, he noticed the righteous distaste in the asshole's eyes, too), "Oh yeah, the new kid, I heard about you. I'm Matt Donovan, welcome to Mystic Falls," Then the quarterback gave his easy-going smile, "Although, I suppose you must already be familiar, what with you being related to one of the founding families."

Jeremy snorted at that which he disguised as a cough, but _Stefan_ wasn't too bothered.

He nodded and then smiled in that weird tragic way, and _ugh_. Tyler _really wanted_ to punch his teeth in. Preferably the fangs.

"Yeah, I just moved back in with my Uncle." He nodded, trying in vain to catch Elena's eye, but she was staring up at Tyler, not daring to look away in fear of doing something she might regret.

Jeremy cleared his throat, interrupting the awkward stare-off that had begun between Tyler (he was fucking glaring at the bitch) and Stefan (who was looking back with unconscious judgment in his eyes).

"Right, so," The younger Gilbert said, "We should go; class will probably start soon."

Caroline nodded immediately, looping her arm through Elena's and she pulled her away. Both prancing down the hall in a flurry of blonde bouncy curls and brown lazy waves. And with a quick nod to Matt and another wary glance at Stefan, Jeremy left to reach his own class.

Tyler watched bemused but also grateful. Both Caroline and Elena were away from the Salvatore. They were away from what some instinct within Tyler had named the vampire in front of him a threat.

Matt said something else to Stefan, before clapping a hand on the Salvatore's shoulder and gesturing for him to join them on their way to Homeroom and then their first class; History. Which ironically were both with Tanner (and further still, Stefan had the same class as they had, or even more coincidentally _Elena_ had. Tyler would bet his father's car that the vampire had compelled his way into having the same class schedule as Elena).

His absolutely horrific mood came to a speeding halt when he was entering the classroom, Matt had stopped abruptly next to him and both ogled at Bonnie and _Zee._

"What the fuck?" Tyler so eloquently said.

"Zee," Matt said more clearly, "What're you doing here?"

"I'm bored," She deadpanned, yet the amusement was clear in her eyes, "Figured I might terrorize you at _school_." She said the word as if it let a bad taste in her mouth, "You find yourselves privileged," She grinned wider, "You're looking at the Teacher's assistant for both the subjects of History and Spanish."

Tyler ignored the scheming grins Zee and Bonnie shared, instead simply focused on the relief taking over him, he saw from the corner of his eyes how Elena and Caroline shared the same sentiments if the gratitude on their faces as they stared at Zee was anything to go by.

He trusted Zee, no doubt, but this, actions like this; where the Asturias family and Enzo proved that the trust they had was well earned… God, Tyler loved those moments. It simply cemented the fact, that they would be fine by the end of this all.

Matt grinned, "Right, I'm sure," He rolled his eyes, "I'm betting Vicki and Bonnie helped you get this done?"

"Of course not, _Seňor,"_ Zee gasped mockingly, "I shamelessly used my own influence."

Bonnie sniggered.

"Now," Zee's grin turned sharp, "I've heard a lot about this _Seňor_ _Tanner._ I suppose I shall have fun _assisting_ him."

And as he watched as Zee's eyes flickered over to the confused vampire standing behind him, her eyes gleaming with calculative, _rancorous_ intentions, the un-triggered werewolf grinned in anticipation.

Having Tanner and the Salvatore, _both_ of them, roasted (or something similar) in the same day, and that too by one of his most favorite people to exist.

Well…

Tyler's day suddenly turned a whole lot brighter.

* * *

Atticus Bennett-Asturias stared bemused at the screen of his laptop, where his sister had sent him an email with a picture attached to it.

The picture being of a classroom, most of their friends (barring Vicki, who was most probably in a different class; she was a Senior student after all, and Enzo who of course had better things to do).

Each and every one of them stared at the camera with gleeful expressions, and Atticus spotted an entirely bewildered Stefan Salvatore.

Narrowing his eyes, Atticus examined the Baby-Scooby gang in a single cursory movement of his eyes. His eyes trailed over the tattoos visible on Tyler's wrist and Matt's bicep, all while knowing that Elena and Caroline had theirs around their left ankles, while Vicki had boldly had hers inked around her neck so it resembled a choker, Jeremy had chosen to have his encircling the base of his left forefinger which he usually covered with a silver ring.

He recalled designing the tattoo with his cousin and sister; they had worked to incorporate protective runes within the tattoo and develop tattoo ink that was specifically infused with magic and vervain. The tattoos were drawn as such that they all resemble vines circling around the respective appendages chosen by the teenagers.

And only they knew that each and every stroke had protective runes scrawled together to resemble that vine-like pattern.

Bonnie, Zatanna, and he, himself, had not needed the tattoos, seeing as they were witches and a warlock, hence immune to compulsion.

Atticus approved of this subtle method of protection, and was further pleased to know that his sister had taken steps to watching _their_ gang at the school.

With that, the Asturias heir snapped his laptop shut, swiftly rose to his feet, and after dropping the necessary money bills required to pay for the cup of tea he had, he stepped out of the coffee shop and onto the busy streets of London.

After all, he had an Uncle to meet.

* * *

 **Additional Information:** _thou_ \- singular informal, subject ( _Thou art here._ = _You are here._ )  
 _thee_ \- singular informal, object ( _He gave it to thee._ )  
 _ye_ \- plural or formal, subject  
 _you_ \- plural or formal, object

 _Forsooth:_ This means 'Indeed' in medieval English.

Furthermore; 'Thou' is historically perceived in Yorkshire (England) as being disrespectful, or over-familiar in a formal context, e.g; if used to address a teacher, or upon greeting a stranger. However, 'thee' is perceived to be more respectful. 'Art' and 'mine own' is translated as 'are' and 'my' respectively and used according to context.

All usage of historical accounts and the changes made to them are purely for the usage of this story. Also, the information about the TVD world, including the timeline (most of it), explained in this chapter is taken from Wikia.

'Bonita' is basically the Spanish, Portuguese variant of the Scottish name 'Bonnie'. Both names have the same meaning; 'Pretty, cute, attractive.'

Regarding, the noble title given to Ignacio Asturias; the title itself is real i.e 'Seňor of Lazcano; Lord of Lazcano' is a real title but it's usage in this story is entirely fictional. As far as I'm aware, in real life this title belongs to the Ducal House of el Infantado.

 **Edit:** Credits to the guest reviewer for clarifying who the title of Lazcano belongs to in real life.

Date of Births:

Ignacio Asturias: 12th May, 1968.

Pauline Bennett: 1st January, 1969.

Atticus Bennett-Asturias: 7th August, 1990.

Zatanna Bennett-Asturias: 31st October, 1992.

All other birthdays of canon characters are as have been listed according to Wikia, with the only exception being those who's birthdays have not been given, of which I shall take liberty of giving them specific dates of birth myself.

* * *

 **A/N:** Okay, so first of all I would like to give you all my sincerest apologies.

I know, it's been too long since I last updated; a little over three months now. But I have an explanation for that, my first semester of University began in September, and the entire reason I haven't updated is because I've been busy with that. Since it's the initial semester, I really wanted to do well; hence, my main priority becoming university.

Again, I do apologize, because you are my readers and I adore the attention and interest you show in this story. And even the enthusiasm and generally kind words you have to say to me. I am so grateful and humbled.

Now, onwards, you may have noticed I changed the rating of the story. That is mainly because of the violence and gore. And I wanted to be safe just in case.

Again, I'd also like to inform you all that my semester final exams will begin on the Seventh of January i.e. this coming Monday, and will go till Fifteenth. After which I will have Semester break. So please, continue showing the patience you have shown me with.

This is **_unedited_** **,** so please keep that in mind. But, it's also long, to make up for the lack of updates, it's around **47 Microsoft pages.**

Now acknowledgements: Thank you everyone who viewed, followed, favorited, and reviewed this story.

Thank you: **marlastiano, Adhara Snow, Kristina'sMyName, Weinberg, daria081, Believer91, crazed828, Rose1414, La'Rae and Ninjas Incorporated, AlianaGabriellaWinchester17, Dezzi95, Queen of Darkness Oo, saky hyuuga, Dancing to your Heartbeat, Akatsuki Wolf Rider, RedAro, Shadowing, Twister60, hexandvex, PolxenaLovegood, RebeliousOne, ArchangelKoriel, TheShortMuffin07, LPWomer, TB Viking Addict, slyKat28, IAMLORDTHORNE, YourSavingGrace, Phoenix Labonair, beamerwitte, keikei313, kitsunez00, Jkmoon, Sadia140230, PrincessMagic, KaterinaStark, Guest#1, QueenRose142, kittylover-003, FallenSlayer17, Guest#2, Innieminnie, gghyatt176, ForeverTwistedLove8814, xXAnonymous01Xx, TheFanFicDevourer, ALLLORD, Crystal Blue Butterfly, THE VOLTURI RULE2, QueenOfCloud, BlueMoonAce, Guest#3, MirrorShard, Rianna1969254, LucyHeartFeelMeUp, , Neiviv Enomis, queen angelica, Guest#4** for reviewing this chapter, I absolutely adored reading each and every one of them.

Fun fact: I got 65 reviews for the previous chapter, which is flattering and absolutely awesome ;).

As an endnote, I'd like to wish you all a very Happy New Year!

Like/Favorite and Review/Comment, please. I respond to all reviews via PM.

* * *

 **Translations:**

 ** _Hola:_** _Hello._

 ** _Sí:_** _Yes._

 ** _Seňor:_** _Mister or Sir or Lord._

 ** _Seňor Thomas Avery:_** _Mister Thomas Avery._

 ** _Seňora Miranda:_** _Madam Miranda._

 ** _Seňora:_** _Madam._

 ** _Seňorita:_** _Miss._

 ** _Seňora Paula Blanco:_** _Madam Paula Blanco._

 ** _Seňor Juan:_** _Mister Juan._

 ** _Idiota:_** _Idiot._

 ** _Mierda:_** _Shit._

 ** _Bastardo:_** _Bastard._

 ** _Seňorita Annett:_** _Miss Annett._

 ** _Querida:_** _Dearest or Dear._

 ** _Seňor Henry:_** _Mister/Lord Henry._

 ** _Seňora Valentina Rubio:_** _Madam Valentina Rubio._

 ** _Estúpido:_** _Stupid._

 ** _Seňora Genoveva Rubio:_** _Madam Genoveva Rubio._

 ** _Doña de Asturias:_** _Lady of Asturias._

 ** _House de Asturias:_** _House of Asturias._

 ** _Doña:_** _Lady._

 ** _Abuela:_** _Grandmother._

 ** _Doña Asturias:_** _Lady Asturias._

 ** _Doña mía:_** _My Lady._

 ** _Seňor Mason:_** _Mister Mason._

 ** _Seňorita Bonita:_** _Miss Bonita._

 ** _Bisabuelo:_** _Great grandfather._

 ** _Tia abuela:_** _Grand-Aunt._

 ** _Bisabuela:_** _Great grandmother._

 **Note:** All translations were taken with the help of Google. If there are any mistakes, I would like to apologize as I do not know how to speak the language.

* * *

 _"Mors nobis favet; Death favors us."_

 ** _-The Asturias Family Motto-_**

* * *

 **Disclaimer** : This is a work of fanfiction; I do not claim any ownership over any characters, situations or anything of relation from the TVD world. I do, however, own the Asturias Family, anything related to them, any other Original-Character introduced and the plot of this particular story.


	11. Chapter IX:

**Warnings:** Language, PTSD, Death, Violence, Morbid jokes and Dark humor that might offend others e.g. jokes on contemplation of suicide, these are just used to describe the rather morbid sense of humor the character/s may have and are in no means used to offend anyone or make light of the serious topics that may be mentioned. For any sensitive topic used in a joke, I apologize in advance and hope you keep in mind I meant no offense.

 **Note:** The dialogues in Italic show that the speakers are either a form of flashbacks or communicating in a different language, in this case spanish.

* * *

 **Surprise: Definition: _(Noun) An unexpected or astonishing event, fact etc._**

 ** _'A rule of thumb for a warrior is that he makes his decisions so carefully that nothing that may happen as a result of them can surprise him, much less drain his power.'_**

 **-Carlos Castaneda-**

 ** _'~It took me by surprise, The hatred in his eyes, I've pushed this man as far as he could go, But he lacked the words to let me know, He acted out, Now I can see it is my fault.~'_**

 **-It Took Me By Surprise; Maria Mena-**

* * *

 **Chapter IX:**

 ** _7th September, 2009; Mystic Falls High school, Mystic Falls; Virginia, United States of America._**

Zatanna was wholly unimpressed by the History teacher.

The man was eyeing her with barely concealed discontent, before smiling at the students seated within class in an _entirely_ fake manner.

"Good Morning everyone," He greeted insufferably, pausing for a moment to let the students drone out a similar greeting, "It's the start of junior year, and as you can see, we have two new people amongst us."

He nodded at Baby Salvatore, "Mister Stefan Salvatore," and then he glanced at her, "And Miss Zatanna Bennett-Asturias."

Stefan smiled awkwardly, looking as if he was in great pain, and Zatanna simply continued staring at _Seňor_ Tanner in unimpressed disbelief.

Good God, what had the education system come to? Hiring morons like the man before her to mould young minds.

"Mister Salvatore here is a new student, and Miss Bennett-Asturias is a Teacher's Assistant, although why _I_ would need an assistant is beyond me," He turned to Zatanna abruptly, a rude and arrogant smile on his face, "Tell me Miss Benn- On second thought, do you mind if I simply call you Miss Asturias? Miss _Bennett-_ Asturias is too much of a mouthful."

Zatanna blinked slowly, an amused smile threatening to twist at her lips. She had handled too many individuals like _Seňor_ Tanner. Individuals worse than him.

Yes, she would _enjoy_ destroying this man's ego.

"If you so wish, _Seňor,"_ She shrugged carelessly, portraying the picture of perfect poise, "If that is the case, I'm sure you won't mind me calling you _Seňor_ Tan. You see Tanner has one extra syllable, and it's honestly an annoyance to pronounce. Of course, this is only if you don't mind." She finished more innocently.

 _Seňor_ Tanner stared at her in muted shock. As if he couldn't comprehend anyone answering back.

Tyler snorted rather loudly before bending over, covering his mouth with a fist and pretending to cough. Elena and Caroline looked gleeful, and Bonnie was rubbing her hands together in anticipation. Matt had subtly taken his phone out and seemed to be recording the proceedings.

"Excuse me?" He bit out.

Zatanna shrugged, "Just an inquiry, although I see it makes you uncomfortable. I apologize if I've upset you."

"You haven't upset-"

"I will continue to calling you by your entire last name. And since I suppose it's only fair, you may refer to me as 'Miss Bennett-Asturias'. Please, and thank you." Zatanna finished pleasantly.

Tyler chortled, and then promptly smothered it with his fist.

 _Seňor_ Tanner seemed to gather his bearings and promptly glowered at the Spaniard, before smiling that cruel smile of his once more, "As I was saying, Miss Bennett-Asturias," He bit out her name in a manner as if he had tasted something bitter, "How did you even get this position? Do you even qualify?"

"Yes, of course, you are correct," Zatanna nodded sagely, "My education is far superior to the mediocre education _you_ give, I have had none but the _best_ as my own tutors. If anything, I am overqualified."

"Now, hold on a minute, that's not what I said-"

"And as to how I got this position? Well, when I displayed my interest, the Principal was very generous in accepting. According to him, a daughter of nobility wanting a meager position as teacher's assistant to an even uninspiring teacher would raise the school's standings within the society as well." Zatanna pretended to ignore the sputtering of _Seňor_ Tanner.

Said adult was caught between gaping and scowling. In fact, he did not seem to know how to react.

"You-"

"But as flattered as I am by the attentions you shower me with, _Seňor,"_ Zatanna then tapped her wrist watch, "I do suggest, as your _assistant_ , that we begin _our_ lesson. Time is of the essence."

Elena shook in barely contained mirth, Caroline and Bonnie were whispering in each other ears, Matt looked too pleased with himself, and Tyler-

Zatanna blinked when she caught sight of the un-triggered werewolf.

He had his face buried in a _handkerchief_ and was _giggling_.

 _Where_ in the hell did he get a _bloody_ handkerchief from?

Zatanna then spied a thoroughly confused Baby Salvatore looking at her with great puzzlement. She could practically hear his thoughts. He had no idea who she was, and that threw him out of the loop.

Interesting, she just couldn't wait to interact with him face-to-face.

In the meantime, Zatanna had a job to do.

She handed a silently seething _Seňor_ Tanner the lesson planner she had prepared, sighing mockingly as she said,

"Honestly, _Seňor_ Tanner, how did you ever survive without me?"

Tyler _wheezed._

* * *

Matt supposed they painted an odd picture if the stares they garnered were any indication.

The entire group had gathered around a single table for Lunch; and the object of the numerous stares was Zee standing stoically as Tyler was hanging of her. The Lockwood had his arms wrapped around her shoulders, his face buried in one of said shoulders and even Matt could tell that the un-triggered werewolf had leaned most of his weight against Zatanna's slender form.

"I _love_ you." He gasped in between his hysterical laughter, as his entire frame shook.

"Careful, now," Zee immediately retorted, "Elena might get jealous."

Tyler snorted, "Nah, Elena knows I'm head over heels for her-"

Caroline hooted loudly, and Vicki thumped a silently blushing Elena on the back.

"Shut up," She rolled her eyes, sending a quiet wink in Tyler's direction.

"Honestly, why don't you guys date already?" Bonnie scoffed, a teasing smile on her lips.

"-BUT," Tyler continued loudly, "Zee's my pack sister."

Zee looked at Tyler with a half-amused, half-disbelieving expression after that.

"It's true," He continued obstinately, "She's the older sister I never had, and most of the time regret acknowledging but also awesome as hell. I mean, Zee's _Zee._ "

Jeremy clapped slowly.

"Wow," The younger Gilbert drawled sarcastically, "What a beautiful description."

Jeremy then ducked behind Vicki in an attempt to avoid the punch Tyler aimed at him.

Zee's lips twitched, "Well, I'm glad you're more in tune with your wolf disposition." She commented lightly, "And I'm also glad I pleased you with today's performance."

"Pleased?" Caroline repeated, " _Pleased?_ Damn it, girl, we're downright ecstatic!"

"God, Vicki, Jer, you guys should have been there," Elena sighed wistfully, "Tanner didn't even know what to say."

"He was speechless," Tyler howled, leaning against Zee in support, "It was _awesome_."

Matt lit up, entering the conversation, "Hey, I took a video, you guys wanna watch?" Vicki all but snatched the camera out of his hand, and Jeremy violently shoved him into a squealing Bonnie and peered over Vicki's shoulder.

And further outrageously, Bonnie pushed him away in her intent to watch the video as well, and as a result he collided with Tyler who cursed and shoved him towards Elena, who sidestepped and caused him to fall at Caroline's feet. Caroline stepped on his stomach (Damn, ouch) to walk towards Vicki.

In the end, he was left curled within himself on the ground, as Zee sniggered, and the rest of the gang crowded around Vicki.

Bitches.

"Yeah," He gasped in pain, "It's not like most of us were _there_."

"Shut up, Matty, don't talk unless you have anything smart to say." Caroline shot over her shoulder.

Matt's jaw fell open, and Zee cackled.

"Hey man," Stefan Salvatore's voice had Matt looking up, "Let me help you up." He smiled, offering a hand.

Matt didn't need to look at the deathly silent group of traitors, whom he unfortunately called friends, to know they were watching the Salvatore with a sudden predacious gaze.

"Thanks, dude," Matt grasped the hand and got up, his eyes straying towards Zee, who looked a lot like a cat who had just caught the canary.

May all the otherworldly forces help the poor soul in front of him.

* * *

 ** _7th September, 2009; en route to Caercastra Castle, Ancestral Residence of House Asturias; Lancashire, United Kingdom._**

Atticus felt amused.

He was not only appreciative of her sister's impeccable word play, but also at Matt's stroke of genius where he had chosen to record the proceedings. The video was the only form of entertainment he had during the long four-hour drive it took to travel from London to Lancashire.

(Honestly, his Uncle better have been worth it).

He balanced his cheek against his fist, his elbow taking place upon the door elbow rest, and he watched the countryside pass by in a blur. The chauffeur driving the black Rolls-Royce was merely a formality, and to be honest, he would have preferred driving himself.

Still, he supposed warily while closing his eyes; the constant sound of the wheels rolling against the road lulling him in a state of peace, it was better he wasn't driving. He was so very much tired.

The jet-lag coupled with his constant comings and goings to not only meet with University officials for final interviews, but also meeting the multiple contacts from their network had left Atticus bone-tired.

He just wanted a good night's rest.

…Okay, maybe _two_ nights. In a row.

He glanced at his wrist watch, finding it to be quarter to six, and if he was correct (which he most certainly was) then it was quarter to one in Mystic Falls; Lancashire being five hours ahead of Virginia. Further still, he wondered how much longer it would take to reach the ancestral castle belonging to the House of Asturias.

He stifled a groan and rubbed his temples in exhaustion.

As if hearing his agonizing and slugging thoughts, the chauffeur took pity on him and announced, while glancing at him through the rear-view mirror,

"Master de Asturias, it seems we have reached our destination."

 _Finally,_ his thoughts echoed the relief he felt, Atticus glanced out of the window and at a little distance, on top of a large hill he saw Caercastra.

It was not the biggest of castles, in fact it was on the smaller side, but its entire figure painted a picture of might and elegance as the sun's setting rays illuminating it in a burnt orange glow. Caercastra was a castle constructed by King Henry the Fifth of England, and Atticus knew his great-grandfather had it built for Beatriz de Asturias; the Plantagenet King's true mother.

He watched as the Castle came closer into sight, the car having a turned upon the road leading up to the gates; the large graceful iron structures were open and leading to the courtyard. The car drove round the magnificent fountain in the middle of said courtyard, before stopping in front of the main steps leading towards large grandeur wooden doors.

A butler, dressed with great finesse, stood by the doors, and bowed gracefully when Atticus had gotten out of the car (And resisted the urge to stretch, although by the twitch of his chauffeur's lips, it was a futile attempt) and strolled up the steps.

"Master de Asturias," He began in a smooth northern accent, after executing a precise bow, "On behalf of the Master of this residence, it is my pleasure to welcome you to Caercastra. Please, follow me."

Atticus nodded graciously before falling into step with the butler who introduced himself as 'Adrian Chambers', they walked through the main gallery, and Chambers soon showed him into a comfortable sitting room.

It was homely and well-lit, the floor carpeted in royal blue, a fire blazing in the hearth of the ornate fire place. A man stood by the tall glass windows, his back towards him, although he turned when Atticus entered the room.

And so, he found himself facing his Uncle.

 _Tío_ Lázaro looked every bit the Asturias that he was.

His eyes were the typical Asturias blend of teal and sea-green, his features, Atticus noticed, were less sharper than Papa's, more gentle and delicate. Although, _Tío_ Lázaro did possess the well-defined cheekbones that seemed to pass down in the family.

What immediately stood out in contrast, was his short pale hair, they were silver colored locks that gleamed lustrously in the twilight. _Tío_ Lázaro smirked at the attention, and if there was any doubt that Atticus was related to this man, it was washed away at the sight of that smirk. The same smirk he saw every day in the mirror, on his little sister, father, and even his great-grandfather's faces.

" _Hola,_ my dear nephew," _Tío_ Lázaro began, leaning forwards against the back of one of the arm chairs placed by the window, "It's about time that we met face to face, _sí?"_

 _"Sí."_ Atticus agreed, a grin lighting up his face, "Am I under the impression that it's directly down to business?"

"Why waste time?" _Tío_ Lázaro shrugged carelessly, a sharp lazy smirk twisting at his lips, "Especially when I _know_ this is not a social visit."

Atticus suppressed a scowl, "You sound entirely too much like Papa."

"Well," The man drawled sarcastically, "It is not as if we are brothers."

Atticus scoffed, "A brother whose existence we were not aware of till recent years."

"Shame on you then, not even aware of your _dearest_ Uncle? Tsk."

The heir to the Lordship of Lazcano _stared_ , "Oh Lord," He muttered with a long suffering groan, "There are _two_ of you." Because in that moment, all Atticus saw was his Father.

 _Tío_ Lázaro chuckled deeply, "Oh, nephew mine, you have grown to be a _remarkable_ young man." The smile on the man's face was genuine, "I, personally, cannot wait to meet your _hermana._ Now, on with it, so I may judge if what you have to say is worth my time or not."

Atticus walked towards the fireplace, standing close so that he could soak in the warmth. He glanced out of the tall glass windows, his eyes straying towards the twinkling stars becoming visible in the darkening sky.

He weighed his words carefully, before confessing bluntly:

"I wish to conquer the Other Side."

.

.

.

"…I'm listening."

* * *

 ** _7th September, 2009; Mystic Grill, Mystic Falls; Virginia, United States of America._**

Stefan smiled politely as he was seated between Tyler and Matt.

The group of high-schoolers had pushed two tables together and each had dragged a chair to seat themselves upon. Upon first glance they looked every bit the average, and rowdy teenagers that they were.

Honestly, Stefan had no idea what to make of them.

His eyes strayed towards Elena, and his breath once more left him when he saw that she was a carbon-copy of Katherine.

Of course, she had her own quirks, Stefan could see that from how her doe-brown eyes were much cheerful, and lacked the sly quality that was ever-present in Katherine's, and she certainly didn't have the long brown curls Katherine had been known to have, no, in fact the tips of Elena's hair brushed her shoulders and fell in lazy waves.

She studiously didn't meet his gaze, Stefan noticed, but he desperately wanted her to. He wanted to look into those eyes and see the innocence he was sure was present, and he wanted her to see the sincerity in his own.

He had watched her all summer, and Stefan would admit privately that it made him a stalker, but he couldn't help it. He was only coming to visit his nephew Zach, when he had passed the bonfire site and had seen Elena laughing with her blonde friend.

The shock he had felt in that one moment, the feeling of the earth slipping beneath his feet, when he had seen Elena –because damn it all, he thought he was watching Katherine. Was all-encompassing, and it threatened to consume him.

He thought it was Katherine, who had always laughed in light feminine, merry tones when he would tell her something amusing. Katherine, who would throw her head back revealing the long slope of her neck to his and Damon's eyes. Katherine, who was always accompanied by seductive, inviting smiles. Katherine, whom he had once thought he loved more than anything; his life, his dead mother… his own _brother_.

(His brother, his heart wailed in that moment, shame overtaking him, his brother who had done everything for Stefan, who had taken their fathers brutal beatings for him, who had stood by with a heart-breaking smile on his face as he was ridiculed, constantly claimed as worthless while also making sure Stefan was seen as the apple of their father's eyes, who had asked for nothing and given Stefan everything.

Where was that brother now? Gone. Replaced by a stranger. A _monster_.

 _A monster of your own making,_ his thoughts crooned mockingly.)

 _NO!_

 _It was Katherine's fault,_ he buried his previous thoughts viciously, not willing to acknowledge that guilt.

Katherine, who always wanted _more,_ who took and took, and gave _nothing_ in return, who had ruined his life.

Katherine, for whom his hatred knew no bounds.

In his confusion and sudden rise in blood lust he had been tempted to flash over there and tear Katherine's –no Elena's head off.

But he had been momentarily distracted when Elena doubled over and laughed loudly, without restraint, so hard that she was wheezing. It was nothing like how Katherine laughed, no dainty giggles or husky, seductive chuckles.

No, it was pure unrestrained and ugly chortles, filled with snorts, wheezes and tears of mirth.

Stefan had been mesmerized.

He watched now, as she laughed in a more restrained manner, but it was no less genuine, at something her Blonde friend –Caroline Forbes, his mind supplied distastefully- said.

Caroline seemed like the typical shallow cheerleader, Tyler being the typical football jock, Matt was friendly and approachable, Vicki seemed to thrive within sarcasm, Jeremy was someone Stefan wanted to get to know (if only to become closer to Elena), and Bonnie was the pretty quirky friend (whom Stefan decided to keep distance from, he didn't want her finding out about his being a vampire).

At least, that's what he thought.

Stefan's eyes shifted towards Zatanna Bennett-Asturias.

The unknown variable.

Her name suggested some relation to Bonnie, and therefore the Bennett bloodline, so she was most likely a witch. But that's all he seemed to gather. He hadn't seen her in town the entire summer, which brought the question where she had been, for he was certain he would have noticed her had she been in Mystic Falls.

She just had that sort of _heavy_ presence.

Zatanna was beautiful, he had noticed immediately, and her entire countenance gave nothing away; a fact that made him uneasy. But mostly, it was her eyes that pierced through him. Perhaps it was their exotic color, or the ever-present knowingness they exuded, or even the way they made him feel small and insignificant.

Stefan Salvatore was not quite sure how to act in front of her.

And it was more than _just_ that; he still didn't know why she invited him for lunch at the Grill, but his senses kept telling him to _run the fuck away_.

Why, though? Why was she so dangerous? And if she was as dangerous as his instincts told him, he wanted to know what her motives were. She might be a danger to the teenagers, to Elena, and Stefan had this unexplainable urge to protect Katherine's double.

But his theory only led to more confusion when he saw how the teenagers acted around her; the personalities he seemed to have pegged them with suddenly washed away when they were in the foreigner's (Spanish by the sound of her accent) presence.

Caroline subtly starting giving cunning remarks, Vicki turned downright assessing and calculating, Matt possessed a certain poise that made him seem like a soldier, Tyler seemed to adore Zatanna; unwavering loyalty in his eyes when he looked at her, Bonnie turned mischievous and confident, Jeremy's intelligence gleamed in his eyes, and Elena glowed brightly.

They seemed to revolve around Zatanna.

Which led to the nagging question; who the hell was Zatanna Bennett-Asturias?

And _why_ did she look so damn _knowing?_

* * *

 ** _7th September, 2009; Bennett Household, Mystic Falls; Virginia, United States of America._**

Bonnie waited till her Grams took a seat across the table, before springing her discovery.

"Okay, so I studied the prison worlds like you told me to, and can I just mention how cool it is that we can make bloody _prison worlds!_ I mean, do you _know_ how many prison world the Bennett witches have made? Like _all forty_ of them! I mean, why do we even need so many Prison Worlds?" Bonnie babbled, waving her hands about animatedly, "But then I also found out that the Gemini Coven, that's the coven Malachai Parker is from, sort of _stole_ two of those prison worlds, used it for their own means and linked it to the Gemini Coven's leaders, which is _wrong_ , who gave them the bloody right?!"

Grams blinked at the onslaught, "No, please, continue," The older woman spoke sarcastically, "Just the kind of talk I enjoy over dinner."

 _"Grams!"_

The sound of the front door opening saved the older woman from responding, and both Bennett witches turned towards the entrance of the dining room.

"Zatanna, is that you, dear?" Grams called out, although Bonnie was pretty sure she had already sensed who it was, "I thought you said you would stay out late, although I'm sure you know I don't approve of that."

Zatanna was slipping off her jacket when she entered the room, an apologetic smile on her face, "Forgive me, _tía abuela,_ the only reason I would have stayed out even later was to reinforce the protection shields around everyone's respective households. The entire process ended earlier than anticipated, so I found myself making it in time for dinner." She sounded hopeful in the end, eyeing the plates of steaks in front of them, with poorly disguised hunger.

Grams smiled fondly, "I know, now come on, I'll get you a plate."

Her cousin grinned, "Ooh, thank you, I'm _starving!"_

"Evidently," Bonnie interjected sarcastically, and then promptly dodged the fist that was half-heartedly aimed in her direction.

" _Cállate, Bonita."_

Grams placed a plate in front of Zatanna, pausing to ruffle the Spaniards hair before taking her own seat, "Have you talked to your father?"

Zatanna nodded once, before humming in pleasure at the taste of the steak, " _Sí,_ he said he would arrive some time tomorrow night."

"And Atticus?" Bonnie asked.

"According to him, _Tío Lázaro_ is a pain in his behind."

Bonnie sniggered behind her hand.

"But," Zatanna continued thoughtfully, "I can tell Atticus likes him…it makes me all the more curious."

"You'll get your chance." Grams pat her arm comfortingly, "I've met your Uncle once before, at your parents' wedding."

Instead of grimacing at the reminder of her Mother's absence, Zatanna glanced at Grams with intrigue clouding her eyes.

"Oh? Do tell."

Grams smiled wistfully, "He's a handsome man, clever, playful; a little less serious than your father. And Lord, he used to tease Pauline mercilessly." She turned a tender smile towards her grand-niece, "You have been blessed with a beautiful family, Zatanna."

Her cousin nodded seriously, "Indeed, a fact I am ever so grateful of."

It was then Bonnie noticed that Grams expression had suddenly turned wistful when looking at the Spaniard, and wondered if instead of Zatanna, the older woman saw Aunt Pauline in her place.

The rest of dinner was a comfortable affair, as always filled with lighthearted laughter from Grams side, sardonic jibes from Zatanna's, and actual god-honest funny stories –as opposed to _ahem_ Elena's- from her own (Grams _cackled_ like the witch she was when Bonnie retold the events of that morning, according to the older witch Tanner deserved nothing less).

It was when Zatanna and she had changed and sidled beneath the bed covers, that her cousin pinned her with a stare.

"You're planning something."

Bonnie winced, "It's _that_ obvious?"

Zatanna's brow quirking had her sighing in defeat. The tea-skinned witch turned fully to face the Spaniard in front of her and bit her lip before explaining.

"Okay, so during my research about the prison worlds, I've kind of figured which two the Gemini coven stole, and I've pinpointed which one holds Malachai Parker…"

Zatanna frowned thoughtfully, " _Two_ prison worlds…" Her eyes widened minutely as they suddenly filled with realization, "Oh yes…The first one was for the Heretics." Teal-sea green eyes suddenly pinned her with a solemn warning lighting them up, "Do not tread in the first prison world, _Bonita_ , it is best the ones who remain trapped there, _stay_ there. I honestly do not need more problems to top the ones we already have."

Bonnie searched Zatanna's face, before nodding, "Will you tell me why?"

Zatanna gave a half-smile in turn, "Of course, _Bonita._ Do you wish to know now?"

Bonnie would have agreed if she hadn't suddenly noticed that it was drawing closer to the time when the moon reached its apex, and she really needed to harness its power for a spell she was about to cast.

"In the morning, right now I have to do something…"

Zatanna narrowed her eyes.

"Don't look at me like that," Bonnie defended, "Okay so like I said, Malachai is in Prison World 10, and well, I've been studying Grams' grimoire, _and_ the tome Mister Henry gave me, and there's a spell where I can astral walk in different planes of existence…so, I was gonna...sorta…do it?"

Zatanna did not condemn her thoughts or even outright give her negative on the idea, in fact, her cousin frowned thoughtfully, "Astral projection has quite a lot of demands and complications, you need to make sure the dimension upon which you mean to project yourself has no specific conditions, than you need to have necessary precautions; such as finding an anchor to tether you to your _own_ plane of existence, and you need to find a source of power…"

Bonnie nodded vigorously, "I know! I already went through most of the checklist, the prison world are bound to the Bennett bloodline, and after the Gemini coven stole two of the worlds; the remaining have been secured so that no one but a witch with Bennett blood can access them."

"You're using the moon as a power source aren't you?" Zatanna guessed correctly.

"For now."

"And the anchor?"

"Well, I was gonna tie myself to the magic of the dream stone I made, but can I use you instead? Having a living anchor is much better."

"And you used all necessary ingredients to enchant this dream stone? You're going to use it to project yourself, _sí?"_

"Yup!"

Zatanna nodded thoughtfully, before grinning, "Go ahead then, _Bonita,_ and yes, of course you can use me as your anchor."

Bonnie grinned half-excitedly, and half-nervously, she reached underneath her pillow and pulled out a dark crystal stone, she handed it to Zatanna to hold, before the Bennett witch swung herself out of the bed, and brought the grimoire on her study table to the bed.

Bonnie then opened a bookmarked page, and quickly went through the tethering spell once more before she looked at her cousin expectantly.

"This is a Shamanic dream crystal," Zatanna sounded impressed, inspecting the dark crystal in her hand, "Where'd you get it from?"

Bonnie snorted, "Mister Henry,"

Zatanna rolled her eyes, "Oh, of course, how could I forget? Well then, hit me with it."

The Bennett witch reached out and pressed her fingertips on either side of Zatanna's temples, frowning in concentration. She felt the power of the moon and at the moment where it just felt _right_ , Bonnie muttered the spell she had memorized.

Internally, she felt relieved when she felt the tethering spell flit into place, and perhaps some of that relief was shown on her face, because Zatanna immediately smiled in encouragement and pride.

The two then lay down on the bed side by side, and Bonnie made sure to activate the effects of the dream stone and place it beneath her pillow, Zatanna stared at her with solemn eyes and when Bonnie felt the lull of sleep overtaking her senses, she quickly muttered the spell for astral projection, and pictured the prison world within which she intended to walk.

As darkness filtered through her, she felt reassured knowing she had her cousin by her side.

* * *

Bonnie's eyes snapped open and she sat up with a distorted gasp.

Immediately she felt the difference; her entire body was discolored and hazy, as if she was a forgotten spectre, doomed to wander the world with no direction.

She tried to wrestle with her sudden panic.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and held it in, before releasing it in a deep sigh. And as she repeated this process she recalled her cousins, her uncle, and Mister Henry. As she imagined their forms in her minds eyes, with them simply standing there, watching her with unwavering eyes, and unrelenting postures, Bonnie found herself drawing strength from that image.

Okay, okay, she tried to organize her thoughts. She was here because she was curious, and also because she wanted to find out all she could about travelling between different planes of reality.

Finally looking around her surroundings, Bonnie noticed that she was in a very old version of her own room, the childish bedspreads and stuffed toys rekindling old, forgotten memories. She was lying on the floor by her too-small bed, and she found it odd; how she could still touch the ground but couldn't really interact with anything else.

She pushed herself to her feet and staggered at the sudden nausea attacking her, "Ugh," She muttered bending over, steadying herself by placing her hands on her knees.

"Okay, Bonnie," She muttered to herself, more than a little unnerved by the silence, "You just need to get one good look at Malachai."

Feeling slightly reassured by the pep-talk she gave herself, Bonnie closed her eyes and allowed the magic around her to expand in a concentrated bubble, all while trying to trace the only single life force in the purgatory.

 _There!_

Her eyes snapped open as she felt her senses tingling, the magic flowing through the purgatory had immediately pin-pointed the single living being and it seemed to glow like a beacon. It was easier to locate an individual in the prison world, Bonnie noticed, as opposed to in the living plane. Perhaps it was because of the lack of the millions of lives inhabiting the prison world, or maybe because it was Bennett magic that had _made_ the purgatory.

In any case, Bonnie let those thoughts rest at the back of her mind, instead concentrating at the task at hand. She pictured that glowing life-force and then she allowed herself to be _pulled_ towards it.

.

.

.

She was _never_ doing that again.

Nope. Nah. Nada.

 _NEVER!_

Bonnie retched; dry heaving (because astral projections can't throw up, can they?) and groaning when she was finally thrown out of the other side of the proverbial magical vacuum.

"Son of a god damn bitch." She muttered uncharacteristically, before freezing when she heard footsteps.

Her head snapped upwards and she stared in surprise (because, it _worked! HAHA!)_ at the masculine form of the young adult who was strolling casually along the rocky path, his lips rounded as he whistled a random tune.

Bonnie blinked, because Malachai Parker was surprisingly good-looking (What the fuck?), his hair were neatly cut short strands of walnut brown, his face was clean shaven which brought her attention to the sharp slopes of his shapely jaw-line and straight nose.

His facial expressions were something that made her heart beat quicken; as Bonnie suddenly swallowed thickly at the _dangerous_ boredom painted across said features.

Figured; all the psychopaths just _had_ to be _really_ gorgeous.

So unfair.

Curiously, she looked around her surroundings, finding herself in some high mountainous terrain, and definitely not in Mystic Falls.

Not entirely satisfied with just _seeing_ the prisoner of the world, Bonnie decided to follow him towards where he seemed to be taking a barren path towards a cliff edge.

Malachai was taller than her, his strides much longer which made it hard for Bonnie to keep up with him; although, Bonnie thought with a private snort, basically everyone was taller than her. She was most definitely a midget.

He was dressed in casual clothes but they were a little old-fashioned, a style she barely recalled Mason Lockwood adopting quite some years ago.

When he finally came to the edge of the cliff, Malachai Parker suddenly stopped causing her to almost bump into him. Although she found it interesting how when she instinctively brought a hand up to stop herself from crashing into him, said appendage just faded before it could grasp his shoulder.

She also perhaps mildly panicked, because her hand _wasn't_ there, but when she pulled it back, the hand just reformed, the vapours gathering back into their original form. Her panic might have mounted when Malachai Parker suddenly went rigid, turned around, and stared straight at where she stood pining her with his gaze.

Her heart jumped into her throat when stormy blue eyes, with prominent flecks of grey glowed with a certain calculated insanity, his expression had lost its merriment and suddenly, if possible he seemed more dangerous with that quietly hooded stare.

Bonnie was sure that he couldn't see her, but that didn't mean he couldn't sense her…

She shivered violently at the intensity of his stare, how was it someone could look at another so dangerously while not really seeing the other individual?

The warlock suddenly began to smile, it was gradual; a slow stretching of the lips, took a step closer to the edge of the cliff and then-

-he _stepped right of the edge._

Bonnie covered her mouth as a scream threatened to rip through and closing her eyes, she immediately pulled herself out.

 _IWANTTOGOBACK_

She gasped violently as she sat up in _her_ bed, her heaving gasps alarming Zatanna who had immediately sat up with her, her arms coming around Bonnie's shoulders.

The Bennett witch couldn't exactly pinpoint which of the turbulent feeling plagued her the most. The intense uncertainty she felt when looking at the reported psychopath, the fear when he leaped of the cliff oh so casually, or-

.

.

.

-or how her heart was still beating in _excitement._

* * *

 ** _8th September, 2009; Mystic Grill, Mystic Falls; Virginia, United States of America._**

Caroline tried to keep the uneasiness from her face.

She knew that there were two more vampires in Mystic Falls (apart from Enzo), and she knew that Damon Salvatore had likely killed the couple from the newsreel a couple of days ago, and again, tonight, she was pretty sure he was the one who killed the two campers too.

So much for enjoying the back-to-school party.

Sighing, Caroline leaned back against her chair, staring at the minimal crowd surrounding her. She supposed, suddenly feeling a strange mixture of scared and thoughtful, that there was something very different when watching the news, and then actually witnessing two dead bodies in front of her eyes.

Something _final._

She sighed again, only to squawk in sudden outrage when she was slapped on the forehead.

"What the hell, Vicki?" She hissed, glaring at the teenager opposite of her.

"Don't think too hard, Care-Bear," Vicki crooned, her lips twisting into a saccharine smile, "You'll lose the minimal brain cells you have let."

"Why I oughta-"

"Guys!" Bonnie scowled, slumping forward resting her head upon her folded arms on the table, "Is now _really_ the time?"

"Ugh, she started it!" Caroline pointed at the Donovan.

Vicki huffed, looking both defiant but also chastised, "Better than thinking about what happened tonight."

At that, Caroline sobered instantly, it seemed they were all bothered with their first bout of witnessing death. Sad part was, the Forbes knew it wouldn't end just here.

Bonnie wasn't frazzled per se, but she did look preoccupied and uneasy, Vicki, tough and private as she was, seemed to be using sarcasm as a shield for her actual thoughts, and Zee…

Well…, Caroline's eyes drifted to where the Asturias witch stood by the bar ordering shakes for them all, Zee looked _unaffected_.

The blonde cheerleader could never forget the urge to vomit when she had first seen the two dead bodies; what with their heads hanging precariously, as if they would fall off, detached from the rest of the body at any moment, the gaping gory wounds at their necks, the way their mouths were open in soundless screams.

But perhaps more than that feeling of revulsion, what bothered Caroline the most was the clinical stare Zee had through the entire proceedings; she had watched the dead bodies with a certain uncaring precision, as if they were just that, simple dead bodies meant to be examined, and not actual people who had lost their _lives._

She had been indifferent, like she was used to the entire proceedings.

Now, there was no doubt that Caroline _loved_ Zee, that she _trusted_ her. But perhaps it was because of that, she wondered, when had Zee become so pragmatic, so _cold_ to the concept of death?

Or wait, she had always been like that, hadn't she?

The sudden sharp gasp from Bonnie had Caroline looking up, and she blinked when she witnessed the sudden ferocity lining the Bennett witch's eyes, the sharp glare that was aimed at…

…Caroline repressed the urge to curse when she _finally_ saw the very vampire who had killed the two campers.

Admittedly, he was good-looking, in a way that Caroline knew; had she met him not knowing his true nature, and his actions towards Enzo, then she would have very likely been taken by that bad-boy smirk.

Damon Salvatore looked nothing like his younger brother; where Stefan had wind swept light-brown hair and forest-green eyes, Damon had thick inky black locks and icy-blue eyes.

And currently said Salvatore was attempting to give _Zee_ (of all people) a sultry smirk.

Caroline resisted the urge to cackle.

Thankfully, because of the night's proceedings, the Grill was mostly uninhabited, as such the lack of noise made listening to the Salvatore scum and Zee's conversation easily.

"Hey," Damon smirked, moving to stand closer to Zee, all while nursing a glass of alcohol in his hand.

Zee turned her head slowly towards the vampire, and both her brows raised in an equally slow manner; looking nothing short of unimpressed.

"Hello," She responded drolly, her eyes flicking over him in a cursory glance, before she looked away in an obviously dismissive motion.

He, of course, mistook the entire action as her checking him out, if the smug glow in his eyes was anything to go by.

But, _yuck_ , even Caroline knew Zee had _way_ better standards.

"I'm Damon Salvatore." He introduced coolly.

Zee nodded once in acknowledgement before resuming waiting for the waiter to deliver their drinks.

"You know," The blue-eyed vampire began again unperturbed, "Typically when someone gives you their name, its polite to give yours in turn."

A pause and a muffled scoff from Vicki's direction.

Zatanna then turned towards Damon, an amused smirk on her lips but her eyes, god, her eyes were _so_ cold and _so_ dark.

"Pity, it seems I've got no manners," Zee spoke mockingly, "Whatever are we going to do?"

"Well," The Salvatore seemed to move closer, and Zee's eyes turned more dangerous, "I can think of a thing or two."

"Salvatore, was it?" Zee spoke, blatantly changing the topic, in a manner that left Damon Salvatore blinking, because Zee showed not an ounce of discomfort or attraction towards him, "Are you perhaps related to a Stefan Salvatore?"

Damon looked displeased for a moment before he masked it with a smile, "Yeah, he's my little brother," The vampire suddenly expressed faux sheepishness, "I'm sorry, do you know him?"

"I had the misfortune of meeting him yesterday, _Seňor,"_

Damon suddenly looked entertained, "It sounds you don't like him that much, I'm sorry if he offended you."

Irritation passed through Zee's face; it was so quick that Caroline doubted anyone who didn't know Zee would have noticed.

"No need to apologize for his actions when you haven't even apologized for yours." Zee grinned dangerously.

Damon blinked, "Oh? And what do I have to apologize for?"

Caroline swore she could hear Bonnie's teeth grinding, and Vicki's knuckles cracking.

Damon Salvatore was such an entitled ass.

Zee leaned closer towards the vampire, and the Salvatore smirked at the movement, his eyes trailing over the Asturias witch's form. He stared however, when all pleasantry left Zee's face, replaced with a cold, _cold_ , expression; her eyes glinted with chaotic intentions, and she spoke in an icy voice that dripped with dark malice;

"You had the audacity to stand in my presence, filth."

Even Caroline flinched at that; those words were meant to unsettle, to terrify, and to belittle.

Damon Salvatore was speechless, watching as the Asturias walked away leaving him standing by the bar, in her hands was the tray of milkshakes, and when her eyes met theirs, the teal-sea green color of them glinted protectively.

Caroline supposed Damon Salvatore's suddenly dark expression as he stared at Zee, explained why the Spaniard had been adamant in having them all within her arms reach the entire evening.

But…Zee's facial expressions were more dangerous than anything Damon could have shown.

And again, Caroline wondered, when exactly did Zee became _so used_ to death?

* * *

 ** _9th September, 2009; Central Park, New York City; New York, United States of America._**

Enzo had a clear view of the dark-skinned witch from the room he had rented across the street. She walked confidently towards the woman he had assigned at the contact point, smack dab in the middle of the Central Park. Beside him stood a professional ex-marine officer who had served in the Republic of Korea Marine Corps.

The South-Korean man, Ryu Hak-Jin, had his sniper aimed carefully to the compelled man following the Bennett witch.

"Any other tails?" Enzo asked sweeping his eyes over the scene, his superior vision allowing him to carefully inspect Lucy Bennett and her surroundings.

The Asian man was silent for a moment before he answered, "There is one more man, by the ice-cream vendor, wearing a leather jacket." His voice was slightly accented, but not much.

Enzo allowed his eyes to settle upon the pointed out man, before humming in agreement. The man was casually sitting but also glancing frequently both at Lucy Bennett and the compelled man who was following her at a distance.

"Well," Enzo spoke out loud, "That would suggest that Katerina Petrova has invested much into Lucy Bennett, enough to keep an eye on her, but not too much because she doesn't truly believe the Bennett witch would go against her."

"Such arrogance is deplorable." Disdain dripped from Hak-Jin's voice.

Enzo felt a smirk pull at his lips, "Indeed."

The ear-piece in his ear flared to life, Lucy Bennett's voice filtering through,

 _"Susan! It's so good to see you again!"_

So, it seemed Lucy Bennett had agreed to play the charade.

Momentarily he glanced at the open laptop, and the e-mail he had sent to the Bennett witch through an encrypted line.

 _Hey Lucy,_

 _Lord it's been years, hasn't it? I've missed my favorite cousin! I was hoping we could meet up again, plus I've got some juicy gossip about old girl Sheila._

 _She's really pissed by the way, she wants to have a family dinner soon, and you know that stupid mantra of hers._

 _'A Benedictus always helps their own', and 'Family is sacred'. Yada yada yada._

 _Anyways, hoping I could meet you this Saturday around noon, at Central Park._

 _Anticipating your summons,_

 _Susan Benedictus._

Intelligent as she seemed to be, it was quickly proven that Lucy Bennett had completely understood the message for what it was.

A summons from her coven leader; Sheila Bennett.

As it was, they could have directly called her but Enzo had anticipated that Katerina might have the witch under watch, so it would be best not to bring attention to the Bennett witches residing in Mystic Falls.

Hence the entire need for the farce.

 _"Lucy!"_ His contact squealed, throwing her arms around the woman, and in the same instance slipping the ear-piece and small phone within Lucy's hands.

Lucy Bennett grinned widely, feigning pushing strands of her hair behind her ears, all while actually putting the ear-piece on.

Enzo picked up the radio receiver in his hand, clicked a button before speaking into it.

"Pleasant day, Lucy Bennett, believe me when I say it is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance, albeit I regret we could not meet face to face." Enzo began softly.

Just as he finished speaking his contact took her cue from where she too was listening in on the conversation, providing a cover in the form of harmless conversation so that anyone listening in on their conversation would not be confused by Lucy's replies.

 _"Great to see you again, Lu."_

He watched clearly from the distance as Lucy's lips quirked up into a devious smirk,

 _"Of course, it's great to meet you, although I'll be honest,"_ The Bennett witch's voice turned teasing, _"It's been way too long; how did you even have the time to contact me in your oh-so busy schedule? Are you even the same Susan I know?"_

Enzo could not stop the amusement overtaking his tone as he spoke into the receiver again, "My name is Lorenzo St. John, and I am quite close to your distant cousins; Bonnie Bennett, grand-daughter of Sheila Bennett, heiress to the Bennett coven, as well as Atticus and Zatanna Bennett-Asturias, children of Pauline Bennett, the noble legacy and future to the Asturias coven."

 _"Ugh, stop teasing me! You're the one who's changed, At least I'm in regular contact with our itty-bitty cousins. God they've grown so much, you wouldn't believe it! I feel as if I've grown a century!"_ Delara, his contact's real name, spoke promptly, feigning exhaustion, she ran a hand through her black hair, her tanned skin glowing in the sun's rays.

Enzo heard a slight huff of admiration from Hak-Jin, and allowed himself to feel impressed by Delara Homayoun; skilled and formidable woman as she was.

The Persian-born woman had immigrated to Jordon at an early age, and soon applied her intelligence to become a part of the Jordanian National Police. Safe to say, Enzo had pulled a lot of strings and a lot of Asturias influence to convince the female human to join his cause.

Compared to her, having Hak-Jin join him was much easier.

 _"Right, whatever you say, we all know how much of a suck-up you are when it comes to the old girl. The fact that she trusted your adopted ass enough to convince me of all people to join that sappy dinner says something."_ Lucy Bennett rolled her eyes.

"Indeed, rest assured, you may trust me. I represent the Bennett coven at the behest of its current head; Sheila Bennett. She calls for you. Her exact words; _Answer the call, every Bennett must stand as one._ " Enzo spoke promptly.

Even from so far away, he could see Lucy Bennett freeze, as the implication of his words settled within her.

Delara spoke casually, improvising her words, _"Oh come on, don't be stingy, the old girl has some urgent news this time, the dinner's just an excuse; her daughter potentially has a debilitating disease,"_ Delara sounded suddenly solemn, _"The old girl was really hoping you could come over. According to her it's time to stand together."_

Lucy nodded slowly, _"I see, that means she would want everyone there right? What…what's the disease?"_

"Indeed, ideally that would be the typical course of action, but the issue as it has presented itself is not too big for the summoning of the entire coven. You, however, are needed, since you seem to be in routine interactions with the _disease._ Katherine Peirce; she aims to come to Mystic Falls and wreak havoc. And most likely than not her targets include members of your family. Lucy Bennett you are _needed_."

 _"Not everyone per se, just close members, and you've always been close to the old girl,"_ Delara responded, _"Now the old girl mentioned the disease was life-threatening and might also be contagious, that's why she's asking you to come. Everyone's anticipating you won't say no, and honestly, I really hope you come. You're needed Lu."_

Lucy grinned a shark-like grin, _"Of course, there was never any doubt. I'll make some time. It makes me furious though, how these pesky diseases suddenly come into your life, and suddenly latch onto you like leeches. Don't worry, I'll be there for the old girl."_

"Splendid," Enzo grinned, observing the fierceness he had now taken to associating with the Bennett lineage flit across Lucy's face, "The phone slipped to you earlier possesses a cryptic line and it is password protected; the password itself will constantly be changing every hour and said password will be send through Bennett runic codes on the phone, the current password is 'Ptolemaic'."

 _"Awesome, now what do say we grab a coffee for old time's sake?"_ Delara clapped her hands together.

As an afterthought, Enzo added, "I look forward to your cooperation, Miss Bennett."

 _"It would be my pleasure."_ Lucy smiled.

* * *

 ** _9th September, 2009; Asturias Household, Mystic Falls; Virginia, United States of America._**

Ignacio Asturias ran a hand through his dark strands, relaxing in his arm chair and watching the sunset through the ceiling-high windows of his study.

He had arrived sometime early in the morning, around 3:00 AM, if he recalled correctly, and had immediately isolated himself in his bedroom, where he proceeded to sleep off his jet-lag.

It did not matter if one owned a private jet or not, travelling as often as he did would leave anyone exhausted.

The Spanish Lord felt his daughter's presence enter the warded vicinity of their manor, and a smile pulled at his lips when he sensed her hurrying through the front door and up the stairs, and finally the door to his study opened.

 _"Papa, welcome back!"_ Zatanna curtsied formally, yet her face was painted with genuine happiness; at the sight of which he felt his own weariness ebb away.

 _"Pequeňa bruja,"_ He answered in greeting, rising to his feet, and pulling his daughter into his arms. _"It is good to see you. How have you been?"_

 _"Quite well, thank you."_ His daughter pulled away, taking a seat across him, his rather large and extravagant office desk between them, _"And you? How was your journey?"_

 _"Tiring as expected, but well enough."_

 _"You haven't eaten anything, have you?"_ Zatanna sounded disapproving, _"I've asked Lola to bring up a cup of tea and some biscuits."_

Ignacio knew his amusement was quite apparent because his daughter only responded by rolling her eyes.

 _"Tell me, mi hija, how are the events proceeding here?"_

Zatanna thoughtfully tapped her nails against the glass surface of his desk, _"Well, I have made contact with both Salvatore brothers. Atticus tells me he has successfully managed to rope Tío Lázaro into his plans, **and** Enzo also just sent me an affirmative regarding his own task."_

 _"Yes,"_ Ignacio agreed dryly, glancing at his phone screen, and feeling that familiar fond annoyance build up when he saw it was another irritating text from his little brother, _"Believe me, I'm getting a rather thorough report regarding Atticus' actions."_

In a blatant display of curiosity, Zatanna leaned across the table to glance at his phone, before promptly smothering a snigger at the obnoxious messages.

 _"Oh, I honestly can't wait to meet Tío Lázaro."_

 _"I dread when the day arrives."_ He retorted, already imagining the devious (for them) and troublesome (for him) situations they would be involved in.

Strangely the thought made him feel _old_.

Another message beep from his phone had the Spanish Lord glancing at the new message his _annoying_ little brother sent.

 _Do give my beautiful and precious sobrina my best, sí hermano?_

Ignacio would admit, his first thought was that (as always) it was downright maddening how Lázaro seemed to know when someone spoke of him.

His second thought, when he read the affectionate endearments in reference to Zatanna, was to keep said daughter away from the aforementioned brother of his.

He then blinked at the sheer possessiveness he felt in regards to _his_ little girl and how Lázaro would never let him live it down if he found out.

 _Best he didn't then,_ He thought to himself.

Still, he found himself forcing the words out, _"Lázaro gives his best."_

Zatanna beamed, _"Please convey that I appreciate his sentiments, and wish him nothing but good tidings as well."_

With a strained smile, Ignacio proceeded to type out the response before pausing and after another thought, he tossed his phone back down on the desk, ignoring his daughter's sudden blink.

He was further thankful when Lola chose that moment to knock on his study dragging along with her the trolley of tea. She gave a formal curtsy before she proceeded to serve them.

"Thank you, _Seňorita,_ " Ignacio nodded, momentarily reverting to English.

The young woman smiled once, before taking her leave, and the Spaniard used this moment to distract his daughter from any questions he did not wish to answer.

 _"It seems all the pieces are in place?"_ He referred to his initial question.

Zatanna looked at him shrewdly, before nodding once, _"Sí, however, I would admit, I am wary."_

 _"As you should be. But what are your reasons exactly?"_

She sent a half-smile his way, _"Niklaus Mikaelson is an unknown variable. He is said to be fickle with his emotions, but his deviousness is perhaps unmatched by any other than his family. I am **worried** ," _Zatanna admitted without shame, _"That we might miscalculate something, make one little mistake that might result in needless slaughter."_

Ignacio nodded along his daughter's words, and felt silent pride when she admitted her own misgivings and worries. He had taught her well.

 _"I agree, these children are still too young to fight in a war."_

 _"That's why this war is **ours** to win." _Zatanna spoke, her eyes alight with intelligent cunning, _"And I intend to use every advantage I can."_

Sending a smirk his daughter's way, Ignacio reached for the metal suitcase by his chair, and unlocking it, he presented Zatanna with its contents.

His second-born sat up, anticipation making its way across her face, as she glanced at the twenty vials of blood greeting her.

 _"Ah yes, pequeňa bruja, fighting fire with fire, eh?"_

 _Or_ , Ignacio thought privately recalling the words his great-grandfather had with him, _is it just an excuse to satisfy your interest?_

* * *

It was when the moon was high in the sky that Zatanna sat upon her bedroom floor, right in the middle of the pentagram inscribed with chalk on the wooden surface. The pentagram was surrounded by a circle of runic carvings; specific combinations.

Zatanna grabbed a vial of _Rubio_ blood her father had brought back with him from Spain, and picking up a dropper, she squeezed one drop of the blood within the bubbling bowl of magical potion she had in her hands.

Immediate vapours rose from the liquid, and just before she breathed in the fumes, Zatanna ran one last mental check-list.

The very atmosphere of the entire town was charged up with magical residues, likely because the comet was near and would pass over Mystic Falls the next day.

So, Zatanna had used this opportunity to use that surrounding magic to strengthen the spiritual runic spells she had cast upon the connection between her spiritual mind and physical body. She had then anchored her body to her father's magic flowing through their manor.

Finally, Zatanna placed the fuming potion in the middle of the drawn pentagram, just in front of her crossed legs.

The Asturias leaned over the bowl.

She inhaled.

And she fell.

* * *

Zatanna woke with a gasp.

Before she attempted to blink away her disorientation. It was especially befuddling when she found herself standing (where ever she was); strangely enough her balance did not falter. Swallowing the sudden bile that rose, she took deep breaths before releasing them.

Scanning her surroundings, Zatanna found herself in awe at the ever shifting dynamics of the entire environment. She was standing in a bottomless black pit, it seemed. The shadows seemed ever-shifting, their tendrils morphing in and out of existence; making and then remaking scenarios.

An entire world, an entire dimensional _existence_ that could be reinvented at the behest of its possessor.

Zatanna shivered, unnerved by the black nothingness amidst which she floated (?).

As if an invitation, the blackness suddenly sharply receded bringing forth from its confines a structure of Greek architecture. It was impressively built and although far, she watched the sculptures lined on either side of the rising staircase leading to the grand front doors.

Zatanna realized her presence had been noticed.

 _And so the spider asks the fly, 'Will you walk into my parlour?'_

Charm, and seduction indeed.

Zatanna took a step forth.

The entire structure was perfectly formed, the detail to the building, from the stairs to the marble walls, and even the creeping vines along the sculptures of ancient Greek deities required meticulous concentration, and an even sharper eye for detail.

The Spaniard was impressed.

Upon entering the building, she found it to be a large library, shelves reaching towards the ceiling filled with ancient texts, old scrolls, and priceless books met her eyes. Tall pillars held up the structure, and warm light from the candle lit crystal-chandeliers encompassed the library.

Zatanna had never seen more of a magnificent sight.

She wandered along, her feet inches above the red velvet covered floor, not touching anything. And when she looked at herself properly in the light, Zatanna noticed her form was translucent. A true apparition.

Everywhere she looked she found some reading material or another. Curious, but also patiently waiting for the master of the house to announce his presence, she continued her inspection of the library, walking up the grand stair-case in the middle of the lower floor, leading towards the one above.

From her perch up high, she noticed, as magnificent as the room looked, it painted an ominous picture, especially with the shadowed corners and alcoves courtesy of the flickering candle-lights.

"Well, this is certainly a surprise. Not entirely an unpleasant one, mind you."

Zatanna turned and stared at the tall masculine form standing at the top of the staircase, seemingly having appeared out of thin air.

She didn't know what she expected when she thought about meeting him face to face. But somehow, she still found herself surprised.

From where he stood there, leaning against the bannister, his form exuded absolute, _raw_ power.

Now, logically, Zatanna knew that Kol Mikaelson was the most unpredictable of the Originals; yet standing before him, watching that ever-present detached amusement, and the sharp intelligence in his penetrating gaze, Zatanna would admit; all her senses screamed to turn away from the danger before her.

And perhaps, it was because she was riding on sheer stupid courage, but the noble witch remained rooted there, watching as the Original's dark eyes roved over her form with mild interest. His eyes gleamed; the chaotic madness within them rising to the surface when he finally noticed the color of her eyes.

"Ah, an Asturias," The dangerous man before her uttered, and Zatanna noted absentmindedly, how different his voice was from his dark and menacing appearance. It suited him though; that silky, velvety tone. It added to his appeal.

He sauntered down the few steps it took to reach her, stopping just at the step before her, and so it made his already tall form tower over her.

"Pardon my lack of proper greeting," He continued in a voice so disinterested that she felt entirely out of her depth, "But it seems the circumstances prevent us to do so," Any confusion she must have felt at that statement were dashed away when he reached for her hand, but met nothing but thin air.

Of course. She was an apparition, and he had obviously intended to give a cordial greeting followed by the usual peck at the knuckles.

"It seems I shall have to make do." He gave an easy, enigmatic smirk, before bowing his head, maintaining his appearance of being the most noble of gentlemen, and reverted into smooth Spanish, _"A pleasure to be in your presence, Doňa, I am Kol Mikaelson."_

Zatanna felt heat bloom across her cheeks, and thanked Death that she was a mere apparition. The way he reverted to _her_ mother-tongue, transitioning so perfectly, with an impeccable accent…

Zatanna pushed those pesky thoughts away.

 _"The pleasure is all mine, Seňor Mikaelson,"_ She was impressed with how her voice sounded even, _"I am Zatanna de Asturias y Bennett."_

Blatant interest flickered across his face when she gave her full name, before it was gone and all that was left was amusement.

 _"Follow me, Doňa mía,"_ Kol stepped aside, gesturing for her to follow him up the stairs.

There was a momentary silence as she gazed upon the first floor of the building, mentally categorizing the entire floor plan, and also using this lapse in conversation to reorganize her thoughts.

It didn't help much, as the next thing she knew was herself blurting an entirely foolish question.

 _"Will you not ask how I am came to be here."_

The moment the words left her lips she wanted to find the nearest tangible wall and slam her head through it. _Why_ would she make such an imbecilic statement?

The Original Vampire before showed no obvious contempt towards her (stupid, _stupid_ ) statement, in fact he glanced back at her, a smirk still playing on his lips.

 _"I've learned never to underestimate a witch,"_ Came his velvety response, _"Especially an Asturias."_

Zatanna smothered a scoff. Lord knew why she was so bloody _flustered._

Thankfully, he took over the reins of the conversation, sparing her from embarrassing herself any further.

"Although," He began, reverting back to English, "I do wonder _why_ you are here." He leaned against one of the large and antique desks, his entire countenance suddenly exuding deceptive relaxation.

No, that wasn't quite correct. He _was_ relaxed, no doubt about that, but intermingled was a certain sense of calculated appraisal he was targeting her with.

Instead of being taken by _everything_ about him (too _bloody late for that)_ , she attempted to prioritize how to answer his questions.

She could do that. Verbal wars were her forte.

(Wars, in general, were her playground, and yet standing in front of this man who seemed to command danger and madness, she felt reduced to how she felt when she was the novice back in Sandhurst.)

No. _No._

She was not going to feel insecure. She couldn't remember the last time she felt as such. Being flustered was one thing, being _insecure_ was another.

And Zatanna refused to feel such trifling, such _insignificant_ feelings. She had always been a self-assured personality, and there was no way she would be anything otherwise.

As such, Zatanna straightened her posture, she summoned her pride, and channeled the confidence that came with being a mentally grown and mature woman, of being an aristocratic Spaniard with a bloodline as ancient as time.

And so, she would very well _own_ this situation. It would transpire as she wished.

"I would typically answer that it was curiosity that brought me here," Zatanna spoke, getting straight down to business, watching as silent approval seemed to flash through the Original's eyes, before he regarded her with more apparent interest, "And while there is no doubt that particular reason is true, I come for another more pressing matter."

"Oh?" A single brow rose, "And what might that be, My Lady?"

Zatanna smiled, "You see, I have taken a human doppelgänger under my protection."

His eyes darkened, and she could see him categorizing her words, forming countless hypothesis and conclusions. And she could see a core aspect of his disposition; Calculating and Machiavellian.

Zatanna found herself respecting that astute mind and acute intelligence of his.

"You are here to bargain," He finally spoke, his statement absolutely correct, "But, I know for a fact you do not wish to avoid the ritual itself."

His eyes were dark shards in that one moment, "No," he continued at her expectant silence, "You want my knowledge. My personal experience in regards to my brother."

Okay, she was impressed with how quickly he had come to the correct deduction.

His lips suddenly twisted into a dark grin, he pushed himself away from the desk and walked closer to her suddenly still form. He stood so close, and although Zatanna knew that he couldn't touch her, and she was in no real physical danger, she felt her senses go awry.

Everything in her screamed and wailed to leave, to run as far away as she could. But another part was exhilarated. He towered over her, and perhaps stood a hair's breadth apart.

"Tell me, _Doňa_ _Asturias,_ why should I do so? Why shouldn't I instead attempt to convince you to prevent the ritual from happening at all?" His voice was a seductive croon in her ear, "I am after all _very_ cross with my brother. And knowingly preventing him from obtaining that which he has obsessed over for the last millennia…well, I find a certain amusement in it."

"You assume I will be so easily swayed?" She immediately retorted, not stepping away from the big, dominant man, "Believe me _Seňor,_ you seem to underestimate the obsession of an Asturias. Once I have claimed something as _mine_ , I have always taken good care of it."

He pulled away slightly to look at her face properly, sudden glee rising in his eyes, "Is that so? Well then, pardon me for the slight, My Lady."

"So granted," She felt her lips twitch into a smirk, even though she could feel her heart slamming against her ribcage at the strange expression on his face. "Now to answer your question as to _why_ you should help me, is simple really."

He seemed comfortable in invading her personal space, she noticed dimly (feeling not quite as annoyed as she had hoped to be). Furthermore, his expression clearly told her to elaborate.

"I have read all possible recordings regarding your family, in particular your brother-"

"I'm offended," He interjected playfully, "Am I not quite as important?"

"I wouldn't be here if you weren't, now would I?"

He seemed entertained by that, before his expression turned unfathomable again.

"As I was saying, I prefer being prepared, and I wouldn't dare underestimate any Original; you are, all of you, a dangerous lot."

He nodded along, not arrogantly precisely, but in a manner that portrayed self-confidence, and recognized the truth in her words.

"I need first-hand knowledge, and seeing as you're rather displeased with Niklaus, who better to give me what I need?"

His expression shifted to sly wickedness and he stepped even closer, this time she stumbled backwards, her eyes shooting up to meet the darkness he allowed to sweep across his face, "Is that all you _need_?" His whisper promised sin and madness, dripping with seductive intentions.

Zatanna was silenced, her breath hitching audibly, and she was left staring into those dark hooded eyes. She was quickly coming to realize that Kol Mikaelson did nothing without a reason, and because he was permitting her to see such deliberate actions from his side, well it was obvious he had some ulterior motive behind them.

"Yes," She forced out, not daring to stare away from his eyes.

"If you insist so," His smirk was downright predatory, "Tell me, _if_ I agree, what will you give me in turn?"

She took a moment to steady her flustered nerves, "Knowledge for knowledge, you tell me the best ways to conduct business with your brother, and I will inform you of the world as it is currently."

The Original's face shuttered, and somehow that was more dangerous than his scheming, wicked visage.

"What year is it?" His voice was dangerously soft.

"2009," She responded honestly.

A momentary silence.

And the atmosphere became suffocating.

Zatanna felt smothered, she tried to look at the vampire's face, but the shadows cast by the candlelight suddenly guarded his features. He cut a devilish figure in that one moment.

"Which is why, I offer something else," She continued, "I swear on my name as an _Asturias_ , on the day the ritual will be performed, I will ensure you to be un-daggered."

She felt her magic bind the oath.

He chuckled, his voice suddenly lilting and smooth, "Congratulations, _Doňa mía,_ I am suitably convinced." He, _finally_ , took a step back, and she let loose the breath she didn't know she was holding in, "This will prove to be entertaining."

It was at that moment that she decided it was best to leave, she had achieved what she wished to accomplish from this particular trip. And to be fair, she was at her limit.

"I am glad we could reach an accord, _Seňor,"_ She clasped her hands before her, "Regrettably, I must take my leave, would you allow me to visit under less constricting circumstances?"

He walked back towards the antique table, leaning against it again, and watching her, "Of course, you are free to come as you wish. You will not find the many safeguards securing my dimension next time."

Nodding, she concentrated on cutting her connection to that particular plane of existence and willed her apparition to return to her physical body.

Just as she was fading away, Kol Mikaelson chose that moment to depart her with a few choice words.

"Know this, My Lady, the only reason I accepted your bargain, all while knowing that sooner or later my brother would have un-daggered me even without your intervention, was because you have managed to capture my attention. I commend you for it."

* * *

 **Additional Information: ' _Caercastra Castle'_** is a fictional place of my own creation. **Caer** is old English for 'Court' and **Castra** is derived from the name _Lancaster,_ so it is derived from Old English 'cæster'which means 'Roman fort or walled city' or in Latin 'castra' means 'legionary camp'. So it can mean both ' **Court of the Lancasters'** or **'A Legionary/Roman Court'.** I take full credit to naming this ancestral home.

 **Origin** of the name Bennett: Transferred use of the surname originating as a variant form of Benedict, a name derived from the Latin Benedictus (blessed).

All usage of historical accounts and the changes made to them are purely for the usage of this story. Also, the information about the TVD world, including the timeline (most of it), explained in this chapter is taken from Wikia.

'Bonita' is basically the Spanish, Portuguese variant of the Scottish name 'Bonnie'. Both names have the same meaning; 'Pretty, cute, attractive.'

Regarding, the noble title given to Ignacio Asturias; the title itself is real i.e 'Seňor of Lazcano; Lord of Lazcano' is a real title but it's usage in this story is entirely fictional. As far as I'm aware, in real life this title belongs to the Ducal House of el Infantado.

 **Edit:** Credits to the guest reviewer for clarifying who the title of Lazcano belongs to in real life.

Date of Births:

Ignacio Asturias: 12th May, 1968.

Pauline Bennett: 1st January, 1969.

Atticus Bennett-Asturias: 7th August, 1990.

Zatanna Bennett-Asturias: 31st October, 1992.

All other birthdays of canon characters are as have been listed according to Wikia, with the only exception being those who's birthdays have not been given, of which I shall take liberty of giving them specific dates of birth myself.

* * *

 **A/N:** Okay, I am so, _so_ sorry for the unholy delay.

I realize it has been five months, and honestly I've got nothing to say in my defense except that I have shit time-management skills. I am also really thankful for all the support and encouragement you have all shown me in regards to this story, your words are heartwarming, and patience is to be admired.

 _Thank you!_

Now, before the acknowledgments, I'd first like to address a few things:

Firstly, it was pointed out in another review, that I didn't mention if Jeremy had a vervain tattoo or not, I've added that detail in the last chapter but you don't have to go read it. I'll just tell you, Jeremy's tattoo is around the base of his left forefinger, so it literally looks like a ring, but he usually covers it up with a silver ring.

Secondly, **my update schedule** ; okay guys, it is _very_ sporadic; I have no intention of giving this story up, rest assured, but my updates may have large gaps in between them, I'm already warning you. At the minimum I would try to update by two months. But please, please continue being as patient as you can.

Also, I hope you guys like this chapter, because **KOL**. Muhahahaha.

Everything is **_unedited._** So, excuse any mistakes.

Now, on to acknowledgements: Thank you everyone who viewed, followed, favorited, and reviewed this story.

My thanks to: **Twister60, RedAmberLady95, HuangBaiLian, La'Rae and Ninjas Incorporated, marlastiano, Yuguresan, MoonlightMiracleSakurianaHima, Infra, Shadowing, CaribbeanTrinidadian, Dezzi95, Rose1414, ForeverTwistedLove8814, Sting3, RedAro, TheShortMuffin07, Guest#1** (Thank you so much!) **, IAMLORDTHORNE, Eclipse Nyx Sinclair, Dancing to your Heartbeat, n1ghtdr34m3r, hereticwitch95, BloodyLoved, RebeliousOne, Kristina'sMyName, Linthaea, AlianaGabriellaWinchester17, AyonSage, CaraCarnage, JezraB, IzzyAvalon19, guadadominguez4, PrincessMagic, angelvm17, Lioness32, keikei313, hexandvex, LPWomer, allicients, Guest#2** (He does, doesn't he? ;D) **, 19vanelkc, Guest#3, Shatteredxo, Hearteyesmf, Dragon Slayer Empress, queen angelica, timijaf, poyochan, AlinaR, Guest#4** (Thank you so much!) **, Guest#5** (Thank you!), **hailstormdragon, Guest#6, Dude (Guest#7), Isabelnecessaryonabicycle, Guest#8** (Thank you!), **Guest#9** (No, don't worry Kol is definitely not going to die, and about Finn, well you'll have to see), **Guest#10** (New Orleans will come in at one point or another, but you'll have to wait and see how it proceeds, and regarding the Gemini Coven, I guess after reading this chapter you can see that I do have plans in store for them), **gghyatt176, Valentina 92n, Newest Reader (Guest#11)** (Your words were beautiful and thank you so much for those kind words, I am honestly very flattered and it makes my day to know you all enjoy this story!), **Guest#12** (Thank you!), **ABigFan (Guest#13)** (Thank you so much!), **purpleXorchid, Halle-jonas, Sara khan (Guest#14)** (Your words are very kind, thank you so much for them, and I hope you continue having fun reading this story.), **SamanthaManga, Guest#15** (Thank you!), **Hellish Will, Aquamarine Phoenix, ReignleighNyte, Guest#16** (Thank you!), **Guest#17** (It's an interesting idea, and if I find time, I'll try and explore it, Thank you so much!).

Like/Favorite and Review/Comment, please. I respond to all reviews via PM.

* * *

 **Translations:**

 ** _Seňor Tanner:_** _Mister Tanner._

 ** _Seňor:_** _Mister/Sir._

 ** _Tío Lázaro:_** _Uncle Lázaro_

 ** _Hola:_** _Hello._

 ** _Sí:_** _Yes._

 ** _Hermana:_** _Sister._

 ** _Tía abuela:_** _Grand-Aunt._

 ** _Cállate:_** _Shut up._

 ** _Pequeňa bruja:_** _Little witch._

 ** _Mi hija:_** _My daughter._

 ** _Sobrina:_** _Niece._

 ** _Hermano:_** _Brother._

 ** _Seňorita:_** _Miss._

 ** _Doňa:_** _Lady._

 ** _Seňor Mikaelson:_** _Mister Mikaelson._

 ** _Doňa mía:_** _My Lady._

 ** _Doňa Asturias:_** _Lady Asturias._

 **Note:** All translations were taken with the help of Google. If there are any mistakes, I would like to apologize as I do not know how to speak the language.

* * *

 _"Mors nobis favet; Death favors us."_

 ** _-The Asturias Family Motto-_**

* * *

 **Disclaimer** : This is a work of fanfiction; I do not claim any ownership over any characters, situations or anything of relation from the TVD world. I do, however, own the Asturias Family, anything related to them, any other Original-Character introduced and the plot of this particular story.


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